A New Spin on an Old Story
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Sometimes life isn't pretty. It's not always wrapped in a nice square box with a pretty red ribbon & a bow on top. Sometimes its more like a half eaten pie with a missing cherry. Often times there are no Happy-ever afters. Not everyone has a 'Mr. Right'.
1. 1 If a Tree Fell on your Head

(All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the publishing or writing of this story, so relax, enjoy, and please, tell me what you think. Thanks!)

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**A New Spin on an Old Story**

**By**

**Anne M**

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**Summary:** Hermione Granger sat at her desk at work and wondered something: If a tree fell on her head in the middle of the woods, and no one was around to hear her scream, did that mean she would be alone for the rest of her life? Those were the weird thoughts that plagued her mind. Her best friends told her she was looking for Mr. Perfect, and he might not exist, but what was wrong with waiting for what you want? Why settle for less?

She thought Draco Malfoy was close to being Mr. Perfect, but he didn't think of her in the same way that she thought of him. She even told her friends she was going to marry him some day.

Draco gave her some advice, he told her not to look for 'Mr. Right', because he might not be out there. He told her to look for 'Mr. Right Now.' How can she tell him that she found her 'Mr. Right', and it was he?

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**1 – If a Tree Fell on Your Head, Would it hurt****? **

An old adage said, "If a tree fell in the woods, and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound?"

According to the laws of physics, there would only be a sound if there were someone there to hear it. No receptor meant there was nothing there to pick up the sound waves, hence no sound. Hermione Granger sat at her desk at work and wondered something. If a tree fell on her head in the middle of a forest, and no one was around to hear her scream, did that mean that she would be alone for the rest of her life? Yes, those were the weird thoughts that went through her head. She sighed and grabbed her purse and coat, and decided that it didn't matter, for the laws of physics didn't mean a hill of beans to her anyway. The answer was that since Hermione Granger was all alone, then no one would hear her scream, so without a receptor to the sound, there would be no sound, and without someone with her, she would probably die with a bashed in skull. Someday she would have to test that theory, but not tonight. Tonight she was going to a New Years Eve party that Lavender Brown was hosting at some posh nightclub.

She worked with Lavender at the paper. The Daily Prophet, a newspaper Hermione once thought of as a rag, was now her rag. She was assistant editor, soon to be editor. Lavender had a beauty column, and reported directly to Hermione. They were never very close friends at school, since they were so different, but they had become quite close in recent years.

Lavender was forever trying to fix Hermione up with a man. Hermione wanted to have someone special in her life. She wouldn't pretend otherwise, but it was easier said than done. She went out on occasional dates, but no one excited her. No one sparked her interest. She didn't get butterflies in her belly. Lavender told her that sometimes that came with time, but Hermione didn't want to wait. If she didn't feel that spark of attraction at the get go, then there was no reason to waste her time.

Meanwhile, everyone she knew was getting married. Ron married Luna. Harry married Ginny, and Lavender was set to marry her long time boyfriend Mike in the summer. She would never get married. If she got married, then she wouldn't be alone in the woods when the tree fell and hit her on the head.

She remembered that on the night of the paper's Christmas party, Mike had brought Draco Malfoy to the celebration, and Hermione felt a small, miniscule, tiny little, 'feeling' for the man she once disliked. He was handsome, charming, and well, handsome. Yes, he was so handsome that it begged to be stated twice. He didn't even acknowledge her except to say, "Hello, Granger," when he arrived and "Happy Christmas, Granger," when he left.

However, she tried all evening to avoid looking at him, and probably to no avail. After Lavender began pointing out single men to Hermione (Lavender's favourite pastime), she pointed at Draco and said, "What about him? He's smart, rich, and handsome, plus you already know him. What about Draco? Can you imagine yourself with someone like him?"

And in a moment of temporary insanity, Hermione said, "Yes, I can imagine myself with him. In fact, that's the man I'm going to marry someday."

Lavender laughed and said, "Well then, you better get over there and talk to him or something."

Hermione was so embarrassed that she said, "I'm joking." The funny thing was that she wasn't. That thought came to her, but it was honestly how she felt at that moment, and she had been thinking about it every moment since then. She hoped he wouldn't be at the New Year's Eve party, but since he was a friend of Mike's, he probably would.

She didn't want to go. She wanted to go home, cuddle up under her grandmother's old quilt, read a romance novel, eat some popcorn, and when the clock struck twelve, she would wish her big fat white cat, Iggy, a 'Happy New Year!' That was what she wanted to do. Sometimes though, what a person wants and what a person gets are two different things.

Lavender had been a good friend to her after Hogwarts, so she would go to this bloody party, with gits she didn't know, and she would have fun, damn it! She walked to the lifts, and adjusted her skirt. She knew everyone there would have fancy, frilly clothing on, and here she was, daring to go to the party in her work clothes. Maybe there was time to change? Maybe she could stop at the shop down the street and buy a new dress. Maybe if a tree fell on her in the woods, she wouldn't even scream, because she would die immediately. What a morbid thought. No, she would wear what she had on for it was fine. Black skirt, white sweater, black pumps. Who cared anyway? Surely not the tree that was going to bop her on the noggin.

She arrived at the nightclub and told the man at the door she was with the Brown party. He gave her the once over, to which she cringed slightly, and showed her to the private party room in the back. The party was in full swing, and she was late. There was loud music, and loud conversation, and alcohol flowing everywhere. She noticed there was one very long table, and that was all. There were three empty chairs, which did not appear taken, as there were not coats on the backs, no food on the plates in front of them, and no one sitting in them. She decided to sit on the one near the end, when Lavender walked up to her, apparently already pissed.

"Hermione!" she said, kissing her cheek. "You're late, sweetheart!"

"Sorry," she said humbly. No one would notice anyway, would they?

"Have a seat, and get some food and something to drink, sweetheart," Lavender said.

Hermione nodded and sat in the seat she was going to sit in the first place. She placed her jacket on the back of the seat, her purse under the chair, and told the waiter she would have a salad and a coke.

"Coke?" a man beside her laughed. "Hi, I'm Joseph."

"Hi," she said quickly.

"Are you Lavender's friend?" he asked, "Or Mike's friend?"

"Lavender's," she answered. "You?"

"Mike's." he answered. He pointed toward Lavender's boyfriend, a tall gangly fellow, who at that moment was talking to Draco Malfoy. The man said, "Do you know who that is? The bloke talking to Mike?"

"Yes, I know him," she said, putting her chin in her hand.

"He's dreamy, isn't he?" he said. "I think I'll go talk to him." The man got up suddenly and left.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and said to herself, "Was it something I said?" Then she looked back over at Mike and Draco Malfoy. Wow, Draco Malfoy. He was so good looking, so posh, and apparently, the boyfriend of some leggy red head who currently placed her hand on his bum, and now had her tongue down his throat.

Okay, enough of that.

She started to eat her salad when a mousy little woman next to her said, "They should get a room, those two."

Hermione looked back over at a snogging Malfoy and his red head and said, "Yes, they should."

"My name is Marie McCormick," the girl said.

"Hi, Hermione Granger," she said back.

"Oh, I know who you are," the girl said. "Lavender works with you. She said she was friends with you from way back, but none of us believed it was true. Are you still best friends with Harry Potter?"

Hermione felt like screaming. It had been ten years people! Enough already! "When I see him, we're friends. I don't see him much anymore," she lied. She really saw him frequently, but it was easier to say that to people, in case they wanted her to get his autograph or some such trite.

"Oh, that's too bad," the girl said. "So you went to school with Draco Malfoy as well, I take it?"

"Unfortunately," she said.

"I think he is dreamy," the girl said. "Don't you?"

"Sure, dreamy," Hermione said in response, not meaning a word she said. Apparently, she had a lot of competition for Draco's affection: the leggy red head, the man who sat beside her, and now this mousy little thing. She might as well forget about marrying him someday. That thought almost made her smile, but only almost. She looked back over, as the red head was now dancing off to the side, and Draco Malfoy was looking right at Hermione. He raised his glass in acknowledgement to Hermione, and mouthed the words, 'Happy New Years'. Hermione quickly looked away. She was sure she blushed.

"I want to marry him someday," Hermione said suddenly. Why did she say that? The other girl giggled.

"Me, too."

"No, I didn't mean that," she said. "I meant, oh, never mind."

"What?" Marie asked.

Hermione didn't know this girl and probably would never see her again, so why not be truthful. "It's just the last time I saw him was at a party, much like this one, and I made a prediction, to Lavender actually, that I was going to marry him someday. I didn't know why I said it that time, and I'm not sure why I said it this time."

"I want to marry him someday, too, so maybe we could share," the girl said with a laugh.

Hermione smiled at her. She liked this girl.

"Do you work with Lavender at the paper?" the girl asked.

"Yes, but I'm not a reporter, like her. I'm the assistant editor. What do you do?" she asked.

"Boring work for boring people," Marie answered. She told Hermione that she worked as a researcher for a private acquisition company. It wasn't terribly exciting, but it paid very well. They dealt in antiquities, buying, selling, and such.

Hermione started to tell the girl about her job, but Marie had already turned to talk to someone else.

Hermione wondered if a tree fell on her head in this private party room, would anyone here even care, since people kept leaving her. She took another drink of her coke and stood up. She bent down to pick up her purse, and when she popped her head back up her future husband, (unknown to him, of course) was standing right there in front of her.

"Not leaving are you? You just got here, Granger," he said.

"Hello, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said. Why did she say both of his names? She felt so stupid. She placed her purse on the table, and struggled into her coat. The damn sleeve was turned inside outwards, and she was having a hell of a time.

"You must not get dressed often, Hermione Granger." He laughed. He said both of her names with a lilting voice, apparently finding humour in the fact that she had said both of his names. "Seriously, it's only ten o'clock. Aren't you at least going to stay to ring in the New Year?"

"I don't think so," she declared, still pushing hard to get her arm in her sleeve. He pulled her coat off her arm, pulled the sleeve out, and handed it back to her. "Thanks," she said, embarrassed.

The red head, Hermione would call her 'slut' for the time being, walked up and said, "Draco, Dan was just telling me the funniest story. Come and let him tell you. If I try to tell it, I'll mess it up. I always do you know."

"Kristen, this is Hermione Granger, we went to school together," Draco said, pointing to Hermione.

"Really? Was she ahead of you in school," Kristen 'the slut' asked.

"No, we were in the same year," he said with a smile.

Hermione frowned. The girl pulled on Draco's arm and said, "Come on, before Dan leaves. It's such a funny story."

"Okay, love," he said. "Well, nice to see you again, Hermione Granger. Have a nice New Years."

"Sure, whatever," she said as a response. She took her purse and started toward the door. She looked back once, as Draco and the slut laughed at what the man 'Dan' apparently had to say. Stupid laughing people!

Hermione headed toward the door and Lavender stopped her. "Where do you think you're going? You haven't even been here twenty minutes."

"I have other plans," Hermione lied. Lavender didn't have to know it included ice cream and her cat.

"Draco Malfoy's here," she told Hermione.

"Why is that something that needs pointed out?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I know you have a thing for him," she said.

Hermione pushed her friend and said, "I do not!"

"Yes you do. The last time you saw him you said you were going to marry him some day. When I saw him at the paper the other day, I invited him just for you," she said.

Hermione wanted to scream. "Did you invite the red headed slut, too?"

Draco stood behind her and said, "No, the slut invited herself."

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath. How much had he heard? Apparently enough that he knew she meant his slut, when she said 'the slut'. Goodness. She couldn't even turn around. Lavender winked at her and walked away. Hermione wondered if Draco was still behind her. She couldn't stay turned away from him indefinitely. She could walk out of the room sideways, but that might look strange.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She didn't turn around. He said, "I'm still back here, you know."

"Really?" she said. She still didn't turn around. Now she felt even more stupid for holding a conversation with him with her back turned.

"So, you have a thing for me?" he inquired with a laugh.

"No, she meant someone else," Hermione said, with her back still turned. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she wanted to melt. He turned her around.

"Someone else named Draco?" he asked with a smirk.

"Maybe, I'm sure there are other people named Draco," she said.

"Just like there are other people named Hermione," he said, still laughing.

"Exactly," she said. She looked down.

He bent his head down so he could look her in the eye and said, "You told Lavender you were going to marry me some day? I'm flattered, Granger." He laughed again. "When are you going to propose?"

So he heard that part too, not just the 'slut' comment. She took a deep breath, pulled out her old Gryffindor bravery, looked back up into his face and said, "Pardon?"

Okay, that wasn't very brave. Hermione actually looked up at the ceiling. A big tree falling right about now would be a welcome thing. Before he could say another word, the man from earlier, whatever his name was, walked up to her and said, "Hey, gorgeous, do you want to dance?"

He was talking to Draco, who looked as if someone had stupefied him, so Hermione took the man's hand and said, "Sure," even though he wasn't asking her. She really didn't care about Draco's discomfort, she was only thinking of getting the hell away from him.

She took her coat off again, put her purse on the table, the man led her out to the main nightclub, and she danced, and danced, and bloody well danced, until her feet wanted to scream.

At 11:50, her new friend, who was actually very nice, and very gay, and she now remembered his name was Joseph, but he preferred to be called Joey, escorted her back to the private party room. All of the revelers were louder than ever. Lavender asked her if she was having fun and she admitted that she was.

She looked around for Draco and the slut, (that would be a good name for a book, she thought, "Draco and the Slut") and when she couldn't find them, she sat down. Her feet hurt so much. She slipped her shoes off and kicked them under her chair. She laid her head on the table. Even though she hadn't drunk a lick of alcohol, she felt woozy. She closed her eyes. She opened them for a moment when she heard everyone count down…ten, nine, eight, she sat up and bent under the chair for her shoes, seven, six, five, four, three, she slipped them on her feet, two and one… "HAPPY NEW YEARS!" The crowd in the room erupted in applause and jubilation. Hermione twirled her finger in the air and said, "Yeah, happy effing New Years."

She stood up to leave, but Joe grabbed her by the waist and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. "Happy New Years, Hermione!" he said.

Soon, she was being passed around like a joint at a Grateful Dead concert. She was kissed on the mouth, the cheek, the other cheek, and one person missed her mouth completely and kissed her nose. She was pushed, pulled, and finally found herself in the corner of the room. She shook her head to clear her fuzzy brain and bent her head, hoping no one else would try to kiss her, and she headed toward the door.

She had just reached the door when she saw Draco, sans red head, standing there with her purse and jacket. "Don't want to forget these, Granger. Oh, and Happy New Years." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She honestly felt drunk, and just by a kiss on the cheek from him! She couldn't speak, (did she ever know how?) so she merely nodded. He said, "What, no kiss back for your future husband?"

"Listen, Malfoy, about that, well…" she started.

He laughed and said, "Yes?"

She just looked at him. Hell, whom was she kidding? She _did_ mean it when she said it, so to proclaim it as a mistake now would be doing them both a disservice, so she just said, "Happy New Years." She leaned forward, placed her hand on his chest, and kissed his cheek. She turned and walked out of the room. He stood and watched her, his hand on his cheek.

"Happy New Years," he said back, though she was gone.

_Coming up:_

"_I love this place," she said, her voice echoing in the empty rooms. "But I could never afford it." _

"_He actually doesn't want a lot for it. He just told me to find another witch or wizard to rent it, and one that wouldn't cause trouble, would pay on time, would be responsible, and somewhat quiet, and I thought immediately of you," Mike said with a laugh._

"_I'm not that quiet. I might have wild orgies up here, you never know," Hermione said, her back to the door of the bedroom._

"_Granger, I always come in at the most awkward part of your conversations," Draco said from behind her. _


	2. 2 Chicken or the Egg

**Chapter 2 – Which came first, the Chicken or the Egg:**

There's an age-old argument that says, which came first, the chicken or the egg. If you believed in evolution, you might believe the egg. If you believed in creationism, you might say the chicken. If you didn't give a damn, you would have fried chicken and eggs for supper.

Hermione sat in her office on Monday morning, reading copy for one of the new writers, who was working freelance. She had yet to meet this writer, but he had sent her this article in response to an article she herself had written, and she found it very good. Hermione was actually enjoying reading it. It was all about how women had their standards set too high, and were looking for 'Mr. Right', when they should be looking for 'Mr. Right Now'. The title of this article was "A Brush of the Cheek", and was about how men sometimes will do little things to women to make them notice them, which seem innocent, but which mean so much more. Hermione could relate. This man's article was in response to an article Hermione herself had written, under a pseudonym, called "Why are men blind when a good woman walks in the room." Speaking of blind, she was blind as far as men's motives went. She was going to publish this article, send the man a big check, and ask for more.

Lavender popped her head in the door and said, "Hey Boss, do you have time for lunch?"

"Probably not, Lav, I have to go apartment hunting at lunch, remember?" she stated. Hermione's current apartment was in Muggle London. It was going co-op, and she didn't want to buy her apartment, so she was forced to go looking for a new home.

Lavender sat down in the seat across from Hermione's desk and asked, "By the way, why did you leave the party so early the other night?"

"I rang in the New Year," Hermione explained, looking up from her article.

Lavender rolled her eyes and said, "Yes and then you left." She stood up, walked over to Hermione's window, and looked outside. "There's a whole world out there, sweetie, full of smiling, happy people, and you should be one of them." She turned back toward Hermione and said, "Do you know what your problem is?"

"No, but I'm sure you're about to tell me," Hermione said with a smile.

"You're too complacent. You like to let on like you're satisfied with how things are, but you aren't," she said.

"Are you sure you know what that word means?" Hermione asked, jokingly.

Lavender said, "Yes, and you are, you know you are. I read your article you know. You let on like there are no good men out there, but the fact of the matter is that there are, you're just the one that's blind to that. You want Prince Charming, and you are content to sit and wait, even if he never comes."

"How is that a bad thing?" Hermione asked.

"Because," Lavender went on to explain, "Complacency equals no challenges, no fun, and no adventure. It equals boring. You need to date, love. You need to dress up, and meet people. That outfit you wore to the party looked like something you might wear to work."

Hermione laughed to herself. "If you only knew," she said. "Listen, I know you have good intentions, but the world doesn't spin on good intentions. My life is fine, nothing is broken, and nothing needs fixed."

Lavender pointed to her and said, "You need a man."

Hermione would normally argue that point, but she rather agreed with her right now, so that would be fruitless. She wanted a man, too. She wasn't sure she NEEDED a man, but she wanted one. Of course, you have to want what you need, and need what you want, so perhaps they did go hand in hand. The trouble was where to begin. She had been single for five years and somewhat contented all that time. She constantly told her mother and her friends she wasn't lonely and that she was fine. However, was that the truth? Was she alone because she was lonely, or was she lonely because she was alone? Her head started to spin, just thinking of it.

She went back to reading the article.

"Why did you say that you were going to marry Draco someday if you weren't going to do something about it? I heard you even told Draco's secretary that at the party," Lavender said.

Hermione was going to kill that little mousy girl who sat beside her. "She forgot to tell me she worked for Malfoy," Hermione expounded. "She said she was going to marry him too, and I really was joking. I guess I just always had a crush on him, and I know that's stupid, because he was so horrible in school. He was a real bully and a spoiled, bigoted brat."

"It makes sense, though," Lavender said. "While all the rest of us had crushes on Harry Potter, he was your best friend, so you couldn't very well have a crush on him. It's like how Harry was really unobtainable for us; Draco was unobtainable for you, since he was a pureblood and all."

"Yes the whole Death Eater's son thing would have gotten in the way," Hermione said with a smile.

"Draco Malfoy told Mike that you've changed," Lavender volunteered. This made Hermione put the article back down.

"How have I changed? What did he mean?" she asked. "And since when was Mike discussing me with Draco Malfoy?"

"After the party and I don't know what he meant," she stated.

"What were his exact words?" Hermione asked.

"Boy, she's changed," Lavender quoted.

"How did he say it?" she asked.

"I don't know, I wasn't there," she said.

Hermione held out her mobile phone and said, "Call Mike and find out. Did he say it smugly, did he say it like he felt sorry for me, or did he say it in a good way?"

Lavender pushed the phone away and said, "Why not call Draco and ask him how he meant it, he's your future husband."

Hermione put her head on the desk and said, "I still can't believe he overheard that! He must think I'm pitiful. I'm so embarrassed. He would never want to date me anyway."

Lavender laughed and said, "Maybe he thinks you're going to be his stalker. Or maybe he doesn't think about you at all."

She flitted out of the office, and Hermione put her face on her hand and thought, 'she's probably right, he probably doesn't think of me at all.' Why should he, he had that leggy, redheaded slut to think about. She started reading her article again when Lavender popped back in and said, "I just got a splendid idea! Why don't you move into Mike's flat?"

"You don't mind me living with your boyfriend?" Hermione joked.

Lavender laughed and said, "Mike just moved into my house, so why don't you sublet his? His apartment would be perfect. It's still in Muggle London, but it's all set up for a wizard to live there, connected to the floo, wards, and the like. The landlord is even a wizard."

"It would be too expensive, I'm sure. Doesn't he live in the complete third floor of a four-story townhouse? I can't afford that, I'm sure," said Hermione.

"Listen, you and Mike go look at it after work, okay? I'll tell him to meet you there. I have to go. I have an article due and my editor is a tyrant." She once again left. This time, Hermione took out her wand, pointed it toward the door, and it shut and locked itself.

After work, Hermione met Mike at his apartment. The building was white brick and four stories high. It was a beautiful old building, with a black wrought iron fence in front of a small, front garden, and flanked on both sides by other impressive townhouses. She looked up at the exterior of the building and said, "Mike, how many people live here?"

"Well, it has been converted to just two flats. The landlord lives on the first two floors. Your apartment would be on the third, and the fourth floor the landlord uses as an office," he said.

"Who is the landlord?" she asked.

"Oh, he's a nice chap," was all he said. He used a set of keys to open the front door, which led to a small entryway. There was another set of doors, which led to a hallway, which had a set of stairs and a set of double doors. "That's his apartment. Let's climb the stairs and have a look at my old apartment. That was the only thing I hated about this place, all the stairs."

"You could apparate," she said.

"I usually did," he confirmed. They climbed the stairs to the second landing. He said, "There's one door leading to this landing from his apartment, over there." He pointed to the door. "One more flight."

They climbed the last flight, and he pointed to another set of stairs. "That leads to his office." He opened the door to the apartment. It was more than she had hoped it would be with dark wood floors, large bay windows, with leaded glass at the tops and a large marble fireplace. Through the living room was a dining room, with built-in china cupboards on both sides of a large, mahogany fireplace. Then there was a small hallway off that, with doors leading to a small kitchen, a bathroom, and at the end of the hallway, a large, spacious bedroom, with another fireplace and a large closet. There was even a door that led to a rooftop patio.

"I love this place," she said, her voice echoing in the empty rooms. "But I could never afford it."

"He actually doesn't want a lot for it. He just told me to find another witch or wizard to rent it, and one that wouldn't cause trouble, would pay on time, would be responsible, and somewhat quiet, and I thought immediately of you," Mike said with a laugh.

"I'm not that quiet. I might have wild orgies up here, you never know," Hermione said, her back to the door of the bedroom.

"Granger, I always come in at the most awkward part of your conversations," Draco said from behind her.

She shut her eyes and cringed. "Is Draco Malfoy behind me?" she asked Mike.

"Yes," Mike said, amused.

"Is he the landlord?" she said as she derived a conclusion.

"Yes," Draco answered. She turned around.

"You live here?" she asked.

He pointed toward the floor and said, "I live down there and in the bottom floor."

She took a deep breath and walked past him, back down the hall. She was sure her face was red. She swallowed hard and was going to leave, when Mike walked up behind her. He whispered, "Take the place, Hermione. You know you want to."

She turned around and said, "Fine, I'll take it."

Draco walked into the living room and said, "It'll make it so much more convenient to live near your future husband, don't you think?"

Mike and Draco laughed. She wanted to run from the place. She said, "About that, Draco Malfoy, I was joking."

"I know, Hermione Granger, so am I,' Draco said. "Why do you keep calling me by both my names?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"And you sound so stern when you say it, like I'm a bad boy or something. Kind of like a mother says both your names when you do something bad. 'Stop pulling the house elf's ears, Draco Malfoy!' or 'Wait until your father gets back from the Death Eater's inner circle, Draco Malfoy'," he said, laughing.

Mike said, "When do you want to move in?"

"Probably this weekend," Hermione said. She went to look out the window. She said, "How much is the rent?" She turned back around, but the men were talking in the dining room. Fine, she would find out later. She walked back toward the dining room, and leaned into the room, holding on to the door jam of the double pocket doors, and said, "Mike, I think I'll be leaving now."

He walked over to her, kissed her cheek, and said, "See you this weekend, when I help you move."

She kissed his cheek as well, and turned to Draco and said, "Bye, Draco Malfoy."

She started down the stairs, when Draco walked out of the main door to the landing. "Hey, Hermione," he said.

She looked up from the stairs and said, "Yes?"

"One word of warning, if you do decide to have drunken orgies, be sure to send me an invite, won't you?" He walked back in the flat, laughing.

She turned red faced and ran down the stairs.

Draco walked back in the apartment and asked Mike, "So what's up with her?"

"In what sense?" he asked back.

"She seems, I don't know, different," he said.

"So you said on New Year's Eve," Mike laughed.

"Why isn't she married?" Draco asked.

"Maybe she's waiting for you," Mike grinned, "but seriously, what is going on with you and Kristen?"

"Who?" Draco said with a smirk.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was arranging pictures on the mantel of her new marble fireplace, in her new flat, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said. She stood back, cocked her head, and said, "I don't know, something just isn't right."

"The picture of Scarhead should go on the left," Draco said behind her.

"Why do you always sneak up on me, Draco Malfoy?" she asked, spinning around to face him.

"Actually, this time, you said come in, so I wasn't sneaking, you just weren't paying attention. Do you like the place?" he asked.

"Yes, but you didn't have to have it freshly painted," she said.

"I didn't, Mike did that," he said truthfully.

"Oh, I see, you aren't thoughtful after all," she said. "You never told me how much the rent is by the way."

He ignored her and walked up to the pictures she had been arranging. There was one of her by herself, in a salmon colored dress, standing by a tree, smiling. He picked it up and looked at it. He turned and said, "You look pretty in this one."

"Compared to how I usually look, you mean?" she asked, confused.

He shrugged, and moved the picture to the center of the mantle. She walked up and moved it back to the side, slightly behind another picture. He picked it up and put it back in the center. "Stop it," she said. She moved it back to the side. She bent down and started to pick up a large box.

He took it from her hands and said, "Where do you want this?"

"Bedroom," she said.

He quirked a smile at her and said, "You're always so suggestive."

"The box really goes in the bedroom, Draco Malfoy," she said, pushing on his back, to move him down the hall.

"Seriously," he said, placing the box on the bedroom floor, "Why do you keep calling me Draco Malfoy?"

She giggled and said, "I don't know. It seems to bother you a bit, and I just got used to it. It's my new nickname for you."

"It's my full name, how is that a nickname?" he asked. He started to unpack the box for her. He held up a pair of lace knickers. "Yours?" he asked.

Her face turned red and she grabbed them from him. "I can unpack by myself, thanks."

"Granger, I was telling Mike that you seem different," he said, leaning against the footboard of her bed.

She looked up from the box and said, "Yes, I heard, but how?"

"I don't know, just disconnected, or frantic, or desperate," he said.

"Wow," she said. She turned back around and walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He followed. She turned on the tap, and got some water. She took a drink and turned to face him. "That's a weird assessment," she said, "And not very nice, or very accurate."

"Sorry, I don't mean to be cruel, just my thoughts," he said. "You used to seem self-assured, and confident."

"You know, you've only met me a couple of times since school, so you aren't qualified to judge me," she said.

"I have eyes, I can see. You know what your problem is, Granger?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Everyone knows my problem, apparently. Tell me, Draco Malfoy, what is my problem?"

"You're looking for something, and you don't really want to find it," he said.

"And in English, what does that mean?" she asked.

"You'll never find Mr. Right if you're searching for Mr. Perfect," he said.

"I should settle on less than I want?" she asked.

"Do you even know what you want?" he asked.

"I want someone who will make my bad days good, question my motives without being judgmental, challenge me at every turn, and cause butterflies in my belly when they touch me. I want to sigh a sigh of relief when he walks in the room. I'm not going to settle for less," she concluded.

"You might have to, because maybe that person isn't out there," he said. "At least, not for you."

"Anymore compliments and my head will inflate," she said sarcastically. She set the glass of water down on the counter, when she really wanted to throw it in his face. She walked to the door and said, "Please, leave."

"Listen, Granger, just don't look for what's not there," he said.

"I don't want to settle for any Tom, Dick or Harry that just walks by, I want love, Draco Malfoy. Love that will curl my toes, and I don't care if that makes me picky, I know what I want," she said. She wanted to add, 'I want you.'

He started out the door, but turned to say, "You're better than most of the shallow, desperate, empty-headed bimbos out there, I'll give you that much, but you should already know that. You do deserve a bloke who'll do all those things you mentioned. Stick to your guns, Granger. Nevertheless, I tell you, sometimes you have to find the person first, and then fall in love, and it sounds like you want to fall in love first, and then find the person, which is impossible. That would be like saying the chicken came before the egg, when everyone knows the egg was first. Find the man first, and then fall in love."

He leaned against the cabinet and she said, "What about you? Why aren't you married? Where's your Miss Right, chicken boy?"

"I haven't found her yet, but I'm not too picky. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, two breasts, that's about all I require," he said, smiling.

"Hence the slut from the other night," Hermione said.

He laughed and said, "Oh, she didn't have two of everything."

"No, the slut only had one brain cell," Hermione joked.

"The slut has a name, and she was just a date, not a girlfriend, and especially not marriage material."

She said, "I don't think you should preach to me about settling down with someone, until you've done the same. You claim I need to be less picky? Well I say you need to be more selective."

"We should pick someone for each other," he said. Then he said, "Hey, you know what, that's not a bad idea. You're lonely, and I'm alone, so why not fix each other up with someone?"

She wanted to ask him why he didn't just conclude that they should date, but she really couldn't ask him that, even if that was what she wanted. She could ask, "Why did you say I was lonely but you were just alone?"

"Same difference," he said, although he really didn't think so. He walked in the hall and said, "Let's make a deal. Let's both go out there and see if we can find the perfect mate for the other, okay? We'll arrange the dates for next Friday. Then, next Saturday, we'll meet back up here in your apartment, both having gone out with someone we normally wouldn't, and we will compare notes. We'll make a challenge out of it. After all, you won't find your perfect mate sitting alone in your flat every night."

"And if we don't find a perfect someone by next weekend?" she asked.

"We keep looking. Let's sweeten the deal. Whoever finds their perfect someone first has to give the other person anything they want," he said.

"We could lie, and say we found the love of our lives," she said.

"You wouldn't lie about something like that," he said, "would you?"

A large white cat walked in the room and rubbed against Draco's pant leg. "Hey, the lease says no pets."

"Hey, I never saw the lease. I don't even know the rent yet," she said. She bent down and picked up her cat. "This isn't a pet; anyway, it's my best friend."

"You found a replacement for Potter, have you?" he said with a grin. "He does look smarter than Potter, what's his name?"

"Ignatius Thistlewhite the First," Hermione said, suddenly embarrassed. She held his ears, and said, "He's sensitive about his name, so I just call him Iggy."

"He's fat," Draco said.

"No he's not!" she harked back. She petted the cat's ears and said, "Ignore the mean man, he doesn't like me either."

"Don't lie to the cat, Granger," Draco said. She put him back on the floor. "Fine, keep the cat."

"I was planning to keep him. Now about the rent Malfoy," she started.

"It's due the first of each month," he said.

"How much is it?" she asked.

He walked up to her and, "You have something on your cheek." He brushed her cheek lightly with his thumb. The butterflies in her stomach were going overtime.

He smiled and said, "Until next weekend, Granger."

_Coming up:_

"_I thought that perhaps someone stabbed you, or something," he said, looking at her red covered blouse. He reached forward and touched the tomato sauce stain. She felt woozy just knowing his hand was near her skin. "Sure, I'll be back in an hour. Would you like me to bring wine?"_

"_I don't drink," she said._

"_That's why you don't have a man," he said with a smile. _


	3. 3 Gin Coloured Glasses

**Chapter 3 – Everyone looks better behind Gin Glasses****:**

The phrase everyone looks better behind rose-coloured glasses meant that people only saw what they wanted to see. Hermione Granger wanted to see Draco Malfoy as her potential husband. Draco Malfoy was happy to see Hermione Granger as one of his new best friends. They both should have taken off their damn glasses, and really looked at the other, and perhaps they would be happier for it!

Hermione Granger was standing in her office on a Tuesday afternoon, three weeks after New Years, with tears in her eyes. It was after 5 o'clock and most of the staff of the Daily Prophet had left. Harry knocked on the door, saw Hermione crying, and ran up to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I stubbed my pinkie toe!" she cried out.

He laughed, held her arm, and helped her to her chair. "You should wear shoes," he said. "You always slip them off your feet."

"Shut up, Harry," she said, trying to fight the pain.

"How did you do it this time?" he asked.

"I was walking past my bookshelf, and I don't know, I just stubbed my toe. I managed to clear my whole body past the bloody thing, but a little, almost inconsequential thing like my little toe doesn't get past it," she said, holding her foot between her hands.

"Shall I heal it?" he asked.

"No, you'll probably hex it off," she said. She took her wand, healed her broken toe, and then said, "What do you want, my dear friend?"

"You told me to find a sexy, good-looking, woman for you," he said, "And I did."

Just then, one of the novice reporters stepped in the office, eyes wide, and said, "Oh, excuse me, Miss Granger," and she backed out of the office.

"Okay, let's go over why you should always be more specific in your sentences, Harry. Now that young girl thinks I'm gay. Enough people think that as it is," she said. "And I wanted you to just find a woman for Malfoy to date, not a sexy, good-looking woman."

"Oh, well, don't you think he would rather date a sexy, good-looking one?" he asked.

"Maybe he would, but maybe I wouldn't," she said.

"You do have a crush on him, don't you?" he asked. "Why don't you just tell him?"

"Because he must not feel the same toward me, or he would have suggested that we date," she said.

"You could suggest it! You're a modern, self-confident woman," he said.

"Hello, have you met me?" she asked. "I am not that self-confident," she added.

"You are when it serves your purposes," he said. "Anyway, her name is Pamela and she'll meet him Friday night at the restaurant you told me about, okay?" he asked. "Who did he get you to date?"

"I have no clue. He just Floo'd me today and told me that my 'dreamboat' would pick me up at 7pm on Friday night. He better be a dreamboat, too, and not a submarine."

"Or a barge," Harry laughed. He picked up a parchment from her desk. "Another article from your mystery writer?"

"Yes, and it's very good," she said. "My latest article was about how men were all for the superficial and the physical first, and his rebuttal were that women feed into that with all the fake hair, fake boobs, fake eyelashes, etc. He said if we would show men the real us, then they would look for the real us. He's really funny and charming. I wish I knew his name. I might give up my future husband, Draco, for him."

"Don't let your future husband know that," he said. "Does anyone know that you're writing the other byline?"

"No, and I don't want them to, so don't let on, Harry. I don't want anyone to know," she said.

"Listen to this part of his article," Harry said, as he picked up the article and read, "Women act like they are all brave, and are up for anything, but they don't even catch on when you give them hints that you want to date them. I once told a woman that I cooked a mean lasagna, and she told me to give her the recipe sometime. I wanted her to say, 'How about you cook it for me sometime'." Harry stopped reading and chuckled. "That's classic, Hermione. Women are oblivious sometimes."

"Says the married man, father of two," Hermione said. "Get out of my office, I have to get home."

"Why, is your cat expecting you home early?" he asked with a smile.

"I hate you," she said.

"No you don't," he laughed. He bent down and kissed her cheek, and started for the door.

She decided to go right home, because, well, her cat was expecting her home, but that had nothing to do with it.

She arrived at her apartment and decided to cook lasagna. She hadn't had it in a while, and the article from the mystery writer put her in the mood for it. She opened up her Muggle cookbook, and started the recipe. She had just finished cooking the noodles, and was about to rinse them, when there was a knock at her door. The stockpot slipped from her hands, and the noodles all fell in the sink, instead of in the colander. She cursed loudly and went to the door, with two pot mitts on her hands. She opened the door, with difficulty, and out on her threshold was none other than Mr. Hermione Granger himself, Draco.

"What do you want, Draco Malfoy?" she asked as she went back toward her kitchen.

He followed her. "Nice to see you again, too,"

"Sorry, it's just I had a noodle accident," she said. She looked in her sink.

"Is that why your hands are bandaged?" he asked. He pulled the pot mitts off her hands. "I don't see the trouble."

"The noodles are in the sink!" she said.

"So, rinse them off," he said.

"The sink is dirty," she said.

"Oh for goodness sakes," he said. He used a pair of tongs, and started putting the noodles in the colander. He rinsed them and then said, "Where's your pan?"

She pointed to the table. He said, "Your pan needs a layer of sauce on the bottom first."

"Oh, right," she said. She took her sauce and poured some of it in the bottom of the pan. He laid a layer of noodles down.

"Cheese mixture?" he asked.

"Bowl," she said and pointed. He started to put a layer of cheese over the noodles, followed by another layer of sauce. She said, "You seem like you've done this before."

"Oh, I have. I cook a mean lasagna, you should taste it sometime," he said.

"How is yours different than mine?" she asked.

"I don't use ricotta cheese, for one, I use cottage cheese mixed with parmesan, and mozzarella, and I use Italian sausage," he said. "Really, you would like it."

"I'll try it that way sometime," she said. He laughed. She was oblivious, she just realized, just as the mystery writer claimed. She added, "Or, maybe, you could cook it for me sometime." There, she could be brave.

"Oh, I'll just write the recipe down for you," he said. She frowned. She wanted to tell her new writer that men could be oblivious, too.

He put the lasagna in the oven and said, "I came up here for a reason. You asked for an extension on our little project, and I've given you two weeks, now, did you finally find me a date or not?"

"Not exactly, Harry did," she said.

"No!" he whined. "She'll probably have glasses and a disfiguring scar!"

"I don't think he finds glasses and scars that attractive," she said, leaning against her cabinet.

"He probably does, because everyone knows he loves himself," he said.

"Then you must love superficial, blond women, who worship themselves," she said, meaning him.

"Not particularly, they can be superficial, self-loving, brunettes," he joked. "Why didn't you find me someone? That was the deal, and I gave you an extension and everything!"

"I don't know many single women, and if this woman isn't your Miss Right, then we might have to amend our agreement, because I can't keep this up," she said. She opened the oven door and peered in. She closed it again and said, "You want to join me for supper." He probably would say no.

"Sure, why not, I have nothing better to do," he said.

Great, she was his choice of companion only because he had nothing better to do. If he had to cut his toenails or darn his socks, would he have said no? She said, "Well, it won't be ready for 90 minutes, so if you don't mind, can you leave and come back?"

He laughed and said, "You're such a gracious hostess."

"It's just I have to shower, Draco Malfoy. I spilled sauce all over me," she said, pointing to her blouse.

"I thought that perhaps someone stabbed you, or something," he said, looking at her red covered blouse. He reached forward and touched the stain. She felt woozy just knowing his hand was near her skin. "Sure, I'll be back in an hour. Would you like me to bring wine?"

"I don't drink," she said.

"That's why you don't have a man," he said with a smile. "Haven't you ever noticed that drunken people always go home from the bar with someone else?"

"Yeah, other drunken people, and then they don't recall a thing about the night before, when they wake up the next morning. Everyone looks better with gin-coloured glasses, Draco Malfoy," she said.

"I think the phrase is, everything looks better with rose-coloured glasses," he said.

"If the person is drunk, it's gin glasses," she said. She walked into her bathroom. He followed.

"Hey, stop there, buddy," she said as he started to follow her in the bathroom.

"Sorry, I almost forgot you were a girl," he laughed. "Just since we've become friends these last couple of weeks, I think of you as one of the guys," he explained.

She gave him a dirty look, pushed him out of the door, and said, "You're a stupid man, Draco Malfoy, and I may not marry you now."

"But you love me anyway," he said with a laugh, obviously joking. She shut the door.

"You have no idea," she said softly, as she turned on the shower.

He went down to his apartment, and decided to take his own shower. He smiled when he thought of how vexed she looked at the 'one of the guys' statement. He didn't really think that. He wondered if she was making lasagna because of the article he sent her. He was sure she didn't know the articles were from him yet. He wondered who was writing the other articles. He wouldn't mind meeting that woman. Perhaps he could have her fix him up with her. He would suggest it over dinner.

He also wondered why Granger didn't have a man. She was pretty, smart, and funny as all get out. He would even give her a chance, if he thought she really liked him. All that talk about marrying him someday was proof positive that she only saw him as a friend, because really, who said things like that to a person they liked?

He had found himself hanging out with her almost every night in the last couple of weeks, and really, he wondered _why she didn't have a man?_

He undressed and started to turn on his shower, when he heard her singing. He walked up to the heating duct, near his ceiling. It was right below the one near her floor. He could almost make out every word she sang. He never noticed that he could hear Mike when he was in the loo. Of course, he might never have sung. She had a pretty voice.

He started his shower and thought one thing. Hermione Granger was an enigma. She was a mystery, not easily explained or understood. She was so self-confident, and self-aware, but on the other hand, she acted insecure. How could a woman be both? He was glad they were on friendly terms now. He had never had a woman who was a friend before. He had never even considered anyone he dated a friend. He used to envy Potter and Weasley, because they had a girl for a best friend. He always thought that would have been nice. Years ago, he envied them slightly because he had a slight crush on her in fourth year, but that was a long time ago.

Yes, now he was happy he could just call her a friend. She was a girl he could be himself with, not have to turn on the charm, play the games, and be on the mark all the time. Someone he could relax with, but still have a level of closeness that he just could not have with his male friends and not be considered 'gay'. He could talk with her, but not have to 'chat her up'. All in all, he was happy to have her as a friend. Moreover, she sang well, too. He hoped she was a good cook. That would be asking for too much, he thought.

He walked upstairs, bottle of wine in hand. He looked down at his attire. He picked a dark pair of pants and a white button down shirt. He even put on a grey tie. Suddenly, he realized, he was dressed as if this was a date or something. This was Granger! Not a date! He ran back downstairs to change.

Hermione stood in front of her closet, torn. She wanted to look nice for him, but she didn't want him to think she thought this was anything but a friend eating with a friend. Oh why, oh why couldn't it be a date? She decided to make her little freelance writer friend happy, deal with the problem directly, and dress in something pretty. A nice black dress, sleeveless, hem at the knees, tasteful, and not garish, should do the trick. She left her hair long, put on diamond, no, gold hoop earrings. Maybe he would see her as something more than a friend. She could always hope. The timer on the oven went off at the exact moment that the bell rang.

She went to the oven first, put on the pot mitts, took out the lasagna, and then ran to the door. She opened it, with difficulty again, mitts still on her hands.

Her face fell when she saw him. He had on jeans and a grey t-shirt, trainers, and she was dress up for a night on the town.

He walked in, took the mitts off her hands again, and said, "Wine." He walked to the dining room, and watched as she ran back toward the kitchen. Damn, she was all dressed up. Did she think this was a date or something? Surely not.

Hermione walked in the kitchen, took the long piece of French bread from the wrapper, and in her frustration, and embarrassment, at having been caught in 'date mode' when he was apparently completely happy to be in 'friend mode' she raised the long loaf of bread over her head, and banged it on the counter. Bang, bang, bang; bread went flying everywhere.

He stood in the doorway, confused. "What did that bread ever do to you, Granger?"

She turned around, half of the bread in pieces around the floor, half a loaf in her hand and said, "I saw a spider."

"So you decided to kill the bread?" he asked.

"I decided to kill the spider with the bread," she lied.

He shook his head in disbelief and walked back in the dining room, where he finally noticed something. Nice china, wine glasses, oh no, even candles. Oh goodness, how could he have been so wrong about her? She did think this was a date. He didn't even know what to think or say. She poked her head in the dining room and said, "I'll be a minute."

She came back out in jeans and a white t-shirt. She cleared away the china and candles, right in front of him. Should he say something? Should he say, "Did you think this was a date?"

He didn't have to say anything, because she said, "I had a date tonight, hence the lasagna, but he stood me up, so that's why I invited you. I was going to wear that dress for my date, so I still slipped it on, but I felt stupid at the last moment, so I changed." She blew out the candles and said, "Sit down; I'll bring out the food."

He did not know whether to believe her or not, but he wanted to. He didn't like her that way, did he? He wanted her friendship. He craved it. He didn't want to lose the tentative friendship that had just begun. Surely, she didn't like him that way, either.

Just then, there was another knock on the door.

Draco went to open the door, and outside, stood the man from New Years, Joe Mullins, with a box of candy and some flowers. "Is Hermione home?" he asked.

"In the kitchen," Draco said, apprehensively. Could she really have had a date? With this guy? Draco thought this guy was gay.

Joe walked past Draco to the kitchen. He shut the kitchen door and said, "Hello! Draco 'The Future Father of Hermione's Children' Malfoy is in your house!"

"Hey, Joey," she said, cutting the lasagna. She and Joe had become intense friends since New Years. She liked him immensely, and he was just what she needed. He was like the girlfriend she had never had. "Yes, I know, but he's just here as friends," she sighed. She went on to explain everything to him, the article, her black dress, the French bread, and her lie, rather quickly. Then she said, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I had a date, but believe it or not, he stood ME up, so why don't I play your date? Make the chap jealous and all," he said with a wink.

"That wouldn't be nice, and besides, I think he knows you're gay," she said.

"I can play straight; don't put me in your little pigeon hole, Hermione. I won't conform to your views," he said as a joke. "I can be who or what I want."

"Fine, be my date, darling." She picked up the food, and started into the dining room. Draco sat at the head of the table, eyeing Joe suspiciously.

"Draco, do you remember Joe Mullins from New Years. Mike's friend?" she asked. "He's the one I thought stood me up tonight, but apparently, at the last moment, he decided to show up."

Joe smiled and kissed her cheek. "It was just a misunderstanding. I had to work late, that's all," he said with a smile. He said, "Shall I get another plate?"

Draco stood up and said, "Listen, if you two have a date, I should leave."

"NO!" Joe and Hermione said at once.

Hermione gave Draco a strange look he couldn't decipher, but he felt like maybe she didn't want to be alone with this guy. Fine, friends looked out for one another, didn't they? He would stay and give this guy a piece of his mind for standing his friend up, and all. That was what Potter would probably do, and he now considered himself as good a friend to her as bloody St. Potter.

After dinner, the trio went to the living room for some more wine. Hermione already had two glasses of wine, two more glasses than she usually had. She was feeling sleepy and relaxed, and a bit giddy. Draco sat down on the end of the couch, and as she backed into the couch, she accidentally sat on his lap, not even realizing he had just sat there. She felt mortified!

She could do one of two things. She could jump up, run from the room screaming out of embarrassment, or she could pretend she meant to sit on his lap. She had a second to decide. She turned to him and said, "Mind if I join you?" Then she laughed. Wine was fun. It made her feel different. Hermione without two glasses of wine would have run from the room, crying.

Draco actually laughed, put his arms around her, and said, "No, get comfortable."

Joe thought wine and Hermione went well together, too. He decided to have fun. He said, "You know, you're supposed to be my date, maybe you should sit on my lap."

"But Malfoy is so comfortable," she said.

"Come on, get off him," Joe said in his most masculine voice.

"Oh, go to hell," she said. She was having fun pretending, too! She said, "You and I know that you were going to stand me up for another woman! I called your office you know, and your secretary told me!"

Joe almost smiled. He was a hairdresser. His office was a salon chair. He said, "Now come on, sweetie, I can date more than one woman at a time."

Draco didn't think he liked this chap, gay or straight. Joe walked over to them and pulled on her arms. "Get off his lap, now, woman," he said. He almost broke out laughing. Hermione winked at him.

He pulled her over to the other side of the couch, sat down, and put her on his lap.

Draco stood up and said, "I think maybe you should leave."

"It's my apartment," Hermione said seriously.

Draco rolled his eyes and said, "I meant your bloody date." Joe could take a hint. Draco was slightly jealous. He would see that she was married to this man by the end of the year, or he would die trying. Right now, it looked like he might just die, because Draco's face was red with anger.

He decided to be bold. He pushed Hermione, rather hard, from his lap and stood up. She sprawled on the floor. She looked up at him and said, "Ouch!"

Draco stepped over her and said, "Really, leave my house!"

"This is her house," Joe said.

"Her house is in my house," he said. He had had enough of this prick.

Joe bent down to Hermione, said, "See you later, sweets." Then he whistled all the way out the door.

Draco pointed to the door after it closed and said, "Really, Granger is that the best you can do! Thank Merlin you have me to find you a decent man!"

Hermione felt sad all of the sudden. Wasn't Draco decent enough for her? She struggled to stand and said, "Yes, thank the Lord." She started to the other room and he put his hand on her back to steady her.

"Two glasses of wine, and you're really this pissed?" he asked, amused.

"I can't handle liquor, Draco Malfoy," she said. "That's why I usually don't drink."

He steered her to her room and said, "Go to bed, Granger. I'll clean up the kitchen, okay?"

"Draco Malfoy, may I ask you a question?" she inquired as she sat on her bed. He smiled, and walked up to her. He put one hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, Hermione Granger?"

"Did you have anything to drink tonight?" she asked.

"I had two glasses of wine, too," he said, still smiling.

"And yet, even with your wine-coloured glasses, you still don't see well, do you?" she asked. She fell on her back and shut her eyes.

What did she mean by that?

_Coming up next chapter:_

"_Did you even try to find me a decent guy?" she asked. She laid her legs out straight on the sofa, with her back against the arm._

_In a move that surprised her, he placed her feet on his lap. He rubbed her legs absentmindedly and said, "I swear, I will do better next time."_


	4. 4 Bird in the Hand

**Chapter 4: A Bird in the Hand Might Poop on You**:

Hermione's grandmother used to say that, "A bird in the hand beats two birds in the bush." She never understood what that meant when she was younger, but she understood now. It meant to be grateful for what you have, no matter what it was, because it was better than what you want, but don't have. Hermione wanted Draco Malfoy, but he wasn't in her hand, he was in her bush. Of course, not literally speaking, because that would be crude, but he was unobtainable. Therefore, she needed to be thankful for what she had, which at this point was nothing.

Hence, one bird in the hand did beat two birds in the bush, unless the bird in your hand pooped on you. That was what Hermione felt happened to her. The bird in her hand pooped all over her.

Her date picked her up at 7:00 o'clock on the nose. He was very good looking. Really, he was extremely handsome and apparently, he thought he was going to get lucky. He tried to touch or kiss her all night. She was constantly running interference and by the end of the night, she was tired.

He invited himself up to her apartment. Fine, he could walk her to the door. He tried to invite himself IN her apartment. She finally drew the line. He tried to turn the kiss on the cheek she offered to a full out snog session in her hallway. She finally pushed him so hard that he fell backwards, landing on his bum. She went in her flat, slammed and locked the door, and decided that the next time she saw Draco Malfoy she would kill him. Then she remembered she couldn't marry a dead man, so she would just maim him.

She changed to comfortable clothes, (okay, nightclothes, but they're comfortable), sat at her dining room table, which was quickly becoming her office, and decided to write another article under her pseudonym. Her articles, along with the mystery writer's articles, were fast becoming the most read articles at the Prophet. The editor was so pleased. No one still knew she was writing the articles and she still didn't know the identity of the other writer. She would write an article one issue and put his response in the next. He was the yin to her yang. He was the right hand, she the left.

She would almost give up her quest for her future husband, Draco Malfoy, for this man.

She wrote about her rotten date. She wrote about how sometimes 'no' means 'maybe' to a man, when it really meant 'no' to a woman. She wrote that men shouldn't try to kiss a woman after she slaps him. It just wasn't done, and it was damn impolite. She wrote about how sometimes men turn on the charm, then they became a snake, and the woman was expected to be a snake charmer. Her advice to men was to stay true to who they are. If they were a snake, be proud of their scales, and show them accordingly. Her advice to women was that if they happened upon one of those snakes, smash them in the head with their high-heeled shoes and run away as fast as their heels would let them without breaking an ankle.

She finished her tirade, curious what response this article would get from the mystery writer, and left it on her dining room table. She went to feed her cat and decided to go to bed when there was a knock on her door.

She swore that if it were the snake returning, she would not only bash him in the head, but remove all his scales as well.

It was Draco.

Damn.

"Hi, Draco Malfoy. You're a day early for our meeting," she reminded him.

He looked confused. Then he said, "Oh, I know, we're suppose to meet back here tomorrow to discuss our dates, but I saw your light on from outside and I was anxious to talk to you."

"Oh really? Things went that good, did they?" she asked, walking into the living room, making faces he couldn't see.

He shut the door and sat on her couch. He loosened his tie and said, "No, the opposite. Where did Potter find this bimbo?"

"She wasn't to your liking?" she asked. Now she was interested.

"Not at all. She liked my money, and that was about it. That was all she wanted to talk about, my money, my house, what type of car I had, and how many kids I wanted someday," he complained.

She smiled. Women should never talk about kids on the first date. That was a certain sign of death. "How many kids do you want someday?" she asked out of curiosity. She wanted three.

"Three, I guess," he said. She could barely contain her grin.

She said, "I don't feel the least bit sorry for you, because your date still had to be better than mine."

"What? Patrick wasn't a good date? I've worked with him before, and he seemed like a great guy," Draco explained.

"Sure he was a great guy, a perfect gentleman, if you don't count the fact that he practically raped me on my doorstep after the date. He thought he was going to get lucky on the first date, Draco Malfoy," she said, leaning over on the couch, and poking his chest with her finger.

"I am really sorry, Hermione. I thought he was an upright fellow. His ex-wives always talked nicely about him," he laughed.

"Did you even try to find me a decent guy?" she asked. She laid her legs out straight on the sofa, with her back against the arm.

In a move that surprised her, he placed her feet on his lap. He rubbed her legs absentmindedly and said, "I swear, I'll do better next time. I could have gotten lucky on my first date with Pamela, but I was afraid of catching a disease of some type."

She wasn't sure she heard him. Her body was on fire. His touch felt heavenly, and yet, he didn't even seem conscious of what he was doing. Remembering that he just thought they were friends, she tried to ignore his movements. Harry sometimes touched her like this, and so did Ron, and it didn't mean anything, so why should this?

She settled down on her back and stretched out more. She liked him touching her. He started to rub her feet. Ahhh, she felt so relaxed, she almost forgot about the snake from earlier.

Finally, she spoke. "There's not going to be a next time, Malfoy. I'll find my own dates, or lack thereof, whichever the case is."

"One more time, okay? I'll try really hard to find you someone great, and you try really hard to find me someone you at least know, okay?" He gave her feet a final squeeze, lifted them and stood from the couch. She turned to her side and shut her eyes. He leaned down and looked at her. She was painfully aware he was staring at her and she was beginning to feel freaky. He thought that she looked cute when she was sleeping. He needed to find her someone worthy of her. He stood up, and crossed her dining room to get a glass of water.

He laughed when he saw that her dining room table littered with work. He leaned down, picked up a piece of parchment, and read it. It was an article by his little 'crush'. She must be editing it. How interesting. He already knew what he was going to write in response. He placed the article back on the table, after reading it and correcting two grammatical errors, and went for his water.

When he walked back to the living room, she was sound asleep. He took a throw from the back of her couch, placed it over her body, and leaned down and kissed her cheek. He brushed her hair out of her eyes. He began to have errant thoughts about her, but he reined them in quickly. No, she was his friend and only his friend. She didn't want more and neither did he. He wouldn't risk losing the only female friend he had ever had, especially after he had waited so long for her to like him that way.

He walked out of the apartment and back to his own. He sat down on a chair in the still dark room and tried not to think about her in anyway but as a friend. There was a time when he might have wanted more, but he long ago gave up that dream. Now that he had her friendship, he knew how special she was. He knew why Potter and Weasley were so protective of her all those years, and yet, so dependent on her. He had become dependent on her in just a matter of weeks.

He found that she was the first one he wanted to see after work, the first one he wanted to share a story with, or a joke. He sought out her opinion. Damn, she was so smart it was frightening. He had never felt this way before. Having her as a friend was the greatest treasure he had ever held, and he was sure of one thing: he wouldn't muck it up with fleeting thoughts about having a relationship with her, because every sexual relationship he had ever had with a woman eventually soured, and he didn't want that to ever happen between them. He decided to go to bed, and try hard not to think of her soft hair and her pretty face.

Hermione, sitting in her office a few days later, was laughing aloud at the article her mystery writer had just sent her. It was the ten do's and don'ts of a successful first date. This man was so on the mark, it was eerie. It was as if he looked into her heart and wrote what she thought. She put it down when she heard a knock at her door.

"Come in," she said. She bent down to find her shoes, to put them on her feet.

"Hermione Granger?" a masculine voice asked. She popped her head up, having only found one shoe.

"Yes?" she asked. Wow, this person was good looking, almost as good looking as future husband, Draco Malfoy.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked.

"You look familiar," she said honestly.

"Michael Corner, we went to Hogwarts together," he said with a smile. White teeth, tall, dark hair, yes…she could forget about her future husband for this man. She stood up and offered her hand. He shook it. See, she had this man in her hand, literally, and Draco was still off hiding somewhere in the foliage. She let go of his hand and he said, "Now, can I possibly get a hug? Really, we went to school together for all those years and I get a handshake?"

He walked around the side of her desk and hugged her lightly. She was shaken, but not stirred. Wow, Michael Corner.

"Wow, Michael Corner," she finally said aloud. He pointed to her one shoe.

"Doesn't the paper pay you enough to buy two shoes?" he asked.

"Oh, I have a bad habit of taking them off, because I can't stand wearing shoes," she admitted. She reached down for the other one, and when she slowly stood up, she noticed that he was noticing her. Interesting. "What can I do for you, Michael?"

"I was told to ask you a question," he said with a smile.

"Oh, really? Well, ask away," she said.

"Will I do?" he asked.

"Pardon?" she asked confused.

"Draco Malfoy sent me. I am apparently your 'blind' date for this coming Friday night, and I'm supposed to be sure that I'll do, first. I am also not allowed to walk you to your door, hold your hand, or kiss you goodnight, if I even meet your approval that is," he said with a smile.

"Wow, Michael Corner," she said again. "I don't have anyone for Draco. I didn't know we were still fixing each other up with people."

"Oh, just go out on the street and find any old person, he's not too picky," he laughed.

She ushered him to the couch, and he followed. "You and Malfoy are friends?" she asked.

"I really should ask you the same," he said, "but we work together sometimes. I buy from him and he sells to me. I understand you live with him." She frowned and he said, "I mean in his building, as his tenant," and he laughed.

"Oh, yes, except, I feel like a squatter, since he has yet to tell me the rent, and the first of the month has come and gone," Hermione said.

"Does it matter? He doesn't really need the rent, and I don't think Mike Cooper paid rent there," Michael said.

As he spoke, she gave him a good look. The most she remembered about Michael Corner from school was that he dated Ginny Weasley for a while, and that he was rather earnest while in Dumbledore's Army. They never really ever interacted. She never really gave him a thought or any consideration back then. Now, however, she could see dating him. If Draco was never going to open his eyes to her, why not date someone like Michael? He was so handsome, and he seemed to be able to string more than two sentences together to form a coherent pattern of speech. She, on the other hand, was having trouble even listening, let alone speaking.

"Hermione, did you hear me?" Michael asked.

"No, I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked.

"Friday night, would you like to go out with me?" he asked.

Here was 'Mr. Right Now' in front of her. He was a bird in her hand. He didn't look like a snake at all. "Sure, that would be great."

"There's a gallery opening up with all new artwork in Diagon Alley, would you like to check that out?" he asked. "Another old classmate of ours, Susan Bones, is the artist."

"Sounds good," she said with a smile. She was pleased with herself. Words were coming out, she was making sense, she was smiling, and she seemed self-assured, even confident. She stood up, because he was standing, and as they were crossing over to her door, she held out her hand. So far, so good. No embarrassing incidents.

He took her hand again, and said, "Until Friday. I'll meet you there, alright?" Then, in a moment of surreal bliss, he kissed her hand. Was this man real? Men only kissed women's hands in fictions written about the olden days, like Jane Austen novels. He walked out the door; and she looked at her hand and sighed. If only he was Draco.

As Hermione was leaving that night, she saw one of her copywriters sitting at her desk, still slaving away. She didn't know the woman very well, but she decided to ask her to go out with Draco. Sure, Draco had found her a prince charming, and here she was, about to fix him up with someone she hardly knew, but that couldn't be helped. It was Thursday, and time was running out.

"Madelyn," Hermione started. The woman looked up. "Would you like to come to a gallery opening Friday night with me, as a double date?"

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, but I'm not gay," the young woman said. Hermione instantly frowned.

"No," she said quickly. Damn and she told Harry Potter to think before talking, and here she was making the same mistake. "You'll be Draco Malfoy's date. I have my own date, a man."

"Draco Malfoy?" she said, wearily. "Okay, sure."

"Meet us at the new art gallery in Diagon Alley at 7 pm, okay?" Hermione said. The girl nodded and Hermione went home, pleased with herself.

She unlocked the door to the building and stopped in the first entryway to check her postbox. Bill, bill, advertisement, letter from her mother, bill. She put her letters in her bag and started up the stairs, only to stop mid-flight. She turned around and knocked on Draco's door.

He opened immediately. He smiled and said, "Did Michael Corner ask you out today?"

"Yes, and I accepted, and your date is named Madelyn McCord, and you are double dating with Michael and me. The art gallery in Diagon Alley, 7pm, sharp." She turned to walk away, but turned back. "Draco Malfoy, it's the 3rd of the Month, you know."

"You're always so informative, Hermione Granger. What would I do if I didn't have you around to tell me the date," he laughed. "It's like you're my own personal calendar."

"The rent was due the 1st," she said.

"Then you're two days late," he pointed out. "Shame on you, aren't you embarrassed?"

"What is the rent?" she asked.

"Oh, you can't afford it," he said.

"What? How much is it?" she asked again.

"Tell you what, don't worry about that," he said.

"Draco Malfoy!" she said sternly, "I am not living here for free! Tell me the rent."

"Two thousand galleons a month," he said.

"WHAT!? I can't afford that!" she said.

"I told you," he said with a crooked smile. He picked an outrageous amount to get a rise out of her.

"Why did you let me move in here, knowing I couldn't afford the rent? Now I'll have to move out." She threw her bag down in the hallway in disgust.

He opened his door and said, "Come in, Hermione."

She walked in his flat. She had lived there three weeks now, and had yet to see it. He bent down and picked up her bag. She looked around. The place was beautiful. He led her to a white couch facing another white couch, which both flanked a large white fireplace. "Sit," he demanded.

She sat on the couch. He sat across from her on the opposite couch. Why did he do that? Did he think she would bite? She wouldn't bite her future husband, unless he asked her to. She smiled to herself and he said, "Why are you smiling like a lunatic?"

"Maybe I am a lunatic. You should have checked my references before you let me move in here," she said with a grin.

"Maybe I knew you were a lunatic, and I don't care," he said back. She was still smiling, so he said, "Really, what's on your massive mind, Granger? Why are you smiling?"

"Can't a girl be happy?" she asked.

"Are you happy about Michael Corner?" he asked with a raise of his brow. She shook her head no.

"No, I'm smiling because you're so funny sometimes. Why are you all the way over there? Do you think I bite, or that I smell bad or something?" she quizzed.

"Do you always just say what's on your mind?" he asked.

"Actually, hardly ever," she admitted. He got up and sat right down beside her. Gee, now he was rather close. Not that she minded.

"Is this close enough?" he asked.

"Maybe a bit too close," she said. She pushed on his chest and he scooted over.

"How do you know I wasn't sitting over there because I bite?" he asked.

She almost thought that sounded like flirting. Was he flirting with her? She said, "Maybe you were over there because YOU smelled bad."

He leaned close to her and said, "Take a sniff, I dare you, I smell wonderful."

She knew he was joking. She knew he didn't really want her to take a sniff, but what would it hurt? She leaned over as he did, and took a deep sniff. He smelled like German Chocolate cake on a summer afternoon, after reading a good book. Yes, he smelled that good. She said, "Not too bad. A bit heavy on the aftershave." She had to lie, or she would throw herself in his arms.

He laughed and said, "Let me smell you."

HE WAS FLIRTING! She was confused. She said, "No one smells me." He leaned over anyway, and she leaned back. The problem was she had nowhere else to go, since the sofa arm was up against the small of her back. She had to stay still while he took a big sniff. He thought she smelled like strawberries and cinnamon rolls. Then he laughed.

"My smell evokes laughter?" she said.

"You smell like my two favourite foods," he said.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Never mind," he said back. He felt suddenly uncomfortable. He was almost 'flirting' with her. He shouldn't flirt with his friend. "Tell me about Madelyn," he said.

"She works at the paper," she said.

He was immediately interested. What if Madelyn was his mystery writer? "Is she a reporter?" he inquired.

"No, a copywriter," she said.

He was immediately let down. She couldn't be his mystery girl. He asked, "What did you think of Michael?"

"To be truthful, I didn't recognize him at first," she said. "But I think I might have a good time, as long as he doesn't bother me too much."

He threw his head back and laughed. "That's why you don't have a man."

"I thought you said I didn't have a man because I didn't drink," she pointed out. He reached over and touched her shoulder. She felt an instant tightening of her throat. He pushed her hair off her shoulders. His hand stayed there. Now her vision was blurred. Friends don't touch friends like this, do they?

"Why don't you fix me up with that writer that writes those funny stories about dating?" His hand was still on her shoulder. His thumb was rubbing back and forth. This was slightly more than flirting. This was an intimate gesture.

She felt actual pain, and it was her heart bursting. Why was he playing mind games with her? She said, "I don't think you'd like her." She wanted to say, 'I know you wouldn't like her, because you just want to be FRIENDS with her'!

"I might. I like the way she writes. She seems funny, and endearing. I have a sort of crush on her. Fix us up," he urged. Why was he still touching her?

Great, he had a crush on HER, but didn't even know it. Would he still have a 'crush' if he found out it was she? She deduced the answer to that question as a no. "She has glasses and a scar," she found herself saying. "In fact, she looks like the female Harry Potter, and I know that would disgust you."

He did in fact blanch and said, "Really?"

"Yes, she's terribly disfigured. I think you'll like Madelyn," she added quickly.

"But I think I might like that writer, I like her writing," he continued.

"No, I know you wouldn't like her, not that way," she responded. She knew that for a fact.

"Oh, okay," he said, somewhat disappointed. He was gently massaging her shoulder now. She found her mind wandering to what his hands might do to the rest of her.

She was about to tell him the truth when he said, "I'm so glad we're friends now, Granger."

He had to go and ruin it by saying that dirty word…friends. She stood up. His hand dropped from her shoulder. He even looked confused.

"Well, I have to go upstairs. I'll try to get the rent to you, when I can, and then I'll find a new place to live, okay? See you Friday," she said the whole thing in a rush. She had to get out of there. She felt flushed. He just wanted to be friends. She now knew there was probably nothing she could do to change his mind. She had to accept the fact. She walked toward the door, and he stood up, pulled on her arm, and turned her around.

"What's wrong, Hermione? You don't have to move out. I lied; the rent is two hundred galleons a month. My mind was confused, and added an extra zero," he jested, trying to lighten the mood again. What did he do wrong? Was it the intimate gesture of touching her shoulder? Did she feel that crossed the friendship line? Did she feel uncomfortable because she thought he was coming on to her? He had seen Potter touch her before, in much the same way. Didn't she think of him as a friend, like Potter? He just wanted to be her friend and all this was new to him. He would now know not to touch her shoulder and hair.

"Come on, Draco Malfoy, two hundred galleons? That's insane, too," she said. "I'll pay you 750 a month, okay? That's what I paid at my old place," she said. She opened her purse, and got out her chequebook. She moved over to a side table, placed her bag down, and bent over to write the cheque.

He looked over at her. He felt immediately uncomfortable because he found himself checking out her bum as she wrote out her cheque. All he could think was, 'well hell, checkmate', because he doubted Potter ever checked out her bum. He loosened his collar and turned away from her.

She tapped his shoulder, and when he turned back around, she tried to hand him the cheque. He looked down at it, then back to her, and said, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Hermione wondered if there was any point. He did not like her as anything but a friend. He took the cheque from her, touching his fingers to hers as the piece of paper passed between them. She felt the little butterflies that she always wanted to feel. He looked calm and collected. He probably didn't even feel caterpillars, but she had to eat, so she said, "Dinner sounds good."

He smiled and she wanted to melt, until he said, "Great. I ordered take out, why don't you go upstairs, get in some comfortable clothes, you can even change to your nightclothes, feed Iggy, and then come back down here, and we'll have a nice friendly chat over food." He turned away from her, her cheque in hand.

He wanted to have a friendly chat. Hermione decided something. Draco Malfoy was so far up in the damn bush, she was never going to reach him. She might as well give up. She must have said yes to eating, because she heard that word come out of her mouth, though she was only aware of a crushing weight on her chest and a swooshing noise in her ears. She ran upstairs, unlocked her door, deposited on bag on the floor, changed her cat's water, opened a tin of cat food, and went to her bathroom to take off her clothes. She looked in the mirror and said, "Give up and face the facts. One of the birds in the bush just pooped on your head. Just give up. He only wants your friendship."

Therefore, she gave up.

Now, if someone would just tell her heart.

_Coming up in the next chapter: _

"_Why did you think that?" Hermione asked him._

"_I told you, I overheard you," Draco explained._

_All of the sudden, she felt mortified. She said, "You heard me…where?"_

"_I hear you in your bathroom when I'm in mine," he admitted._

_She was beyond embarrassed! She ran from the room to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and screamed._


	5. 5 Lead A Horse to Water

**Chapter 5 – You Can Lead a Horse to Water, but if he isn't Thirsty, then what's the Point?**

Hermione Granger could proclaim her love for Draco Malfoy until she was old and grey. She could shout it from the highest mountaintop until she was hoarse from her screams. She could take out an ad in her very own paper. She could tattoo it on her bum, but the point was that just proclaiming her love for him did not necessarily mean he would ever love her back. You could lead a horse to water, but if he wasn't thirsty, what was the point?

After dinner last night, he talked about his business, his new racing broom, and his favourite Quidditch team. He didn't touch her again, or smell her once. It made her want to cry, or possibly slap him hard.

She was transported back to her school days when she had that massive crush on Ron for five years before he finally saw her as more than a friend. She didn't have the time or energy to wait for Draco finally to see her as more than a friend. She just couldn't go through that again. The only difference back then was that at least Ron returned her feelings eventually, and in fact, had been harbouring the same feelings all along and was just in denial. It was different with Draco. She could tell he would never return her feelings, and the truth was she didn't really love him anyway. Did she? How could she? She wasn't some pitiful fool who loved someone unrequitedly. She was merely infatuated with him, and was in love with the thought of being in love.

After he was done talking excessively, he finally asked her if she wanted to call it a night, since they had their big dates tomorrow. She agreed, resigned to the fact that he and she were just friends. One could never have enough friends or enough money, and Draco seemed to have both in spades.

The next day, she left work two hours early to get ready for a date that wasn't until seven pm. She had to look her best. After all, Michael Corner might now be her future husband. That thought made her sad instead of happy. Joe stopped by to help her get ready. She had just had her shower, and he was doing her hair in her bathroom when he said, "We should wax your legs."

"I shaved them last night," she said, holding a leg up to look at it.

He was standing behind her, his wand in his hand, styling her hair into small curls all over her head. He said, "Did you shave with a dull knife? You have stubble." He reached down and touched her leg. "Michael will mistake you for a bear."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "No one will see my legs. I'm wearing pants tonight."

He pulled on her hair, hard, and said, "You, my naïve little friend, are wearing a dress and we are waxing your legs, your underarms, and maybe another place as well. What if you have a good time with Michael, and you wanted to come home and get busy?"

"Doing what?" she asked, looking up at him. He pulled her hair again. "Ouch, stop that. I know what you mean, but I would never get busy on the first date, even if it was with Draco Malfoy."

He said, "You're such a liar! You cannot sit there and try to convince me you wouldn't sleep with Draco on the first date if he wanted you. You know you would!"

"I certainly would not!" she said. "Anyway, I decided the word Draco is a dirty word from now on, so kindly refrain from saying it to me."

He leaned down to her ear and said, "Draco, Draco, Draco." She turned to look at him, as she sat on a stool in her bathroom, and gave him a dirty look.

"Oh, loosen up, Hermione," Joe said.

"I don't want to be loose, I like being uptight," she said.

"Fine, but I'm still going to make sure you look good tonight. Your hair will be perfect, your outfit the best, and you will not have a bit of hair on your legs. We are waxing! We could remove the hair with magic, but wax works the best. At least you have matching underwear on tonight. Those polka dots are cute. You wouldn't have cute, skimpy underwear on if you didn't think you were going to get lucky, and I'm going to do my part to make sure that occurs."

"Doesn't waxing hurt?" she asked.

"No, that's an old wife's tale," he lied. "Anyway, I'm very gentle." He finished her hair and walked out to the living room, returning to the bathroom with a small black bag. He said, "Now, let's get to work."

Draco walked down the stairs from his office and stopped by Hermione's apartment door. He wondered if she was home yet. She didn't usually get home from work until six or seven o'clock. He noticed these things. She usually went in early, too. He noticed many things about her, like how her eyes sparkled when she told him about her day at work, and how her eyes narrowed when she was really concentrating on something. He liked the way she bit the inside of her mouth when she was apprehensive or thinking really hard, which was often, and the way she held her mouth in a crooked scowl when she was upset at him for saying something stupid.

It dawned on him that he liked just about everything about her. When that thought entered his head, he tried quickly to push it away. They were just friends, and he shouldn't be spending so much time thinking about her. He liked being her friend. He wouldn't ruin it now, not after waiting years for her finally to accept him for who he was.

He was about to knock on her door, when he decided to go on down to his flat. He went down one more floor, to the single door that led to his second floor bedroom suite. He didn't usually use this door. It was usually just for emergencies. The truth was that he used to have it sealed shut, but when Hermione moved it, he merely went back to just locking it, in case she would ever needed him. You never knew, there could be an emergency at night, like a water main break, a blown fuse, a robber, or a hangnail. He used his wand to unlock the door, and went through his bedroom to his bathroom and started to undress.

As he was peeling off his boxers, he heard voices in the bathroom above him. She WAS home, but she wasn't alone, apparently. Who was with her? It sounded like a man.

He kept his boxers on, stood on the side of his tub, and put his ear as close to the grate as he could, so he could listen.

"I don't want to do this, please!" Draco heard Hermione say.

"It won't hurt, I told you, and I'll be gentle." The man's voice sounded familiar, but Draco couldn't pinpoint to whom it belonged. Wait, it was that Joe fellow, that arse-hole.

"I don't want to be in pain all night! This date is important to me," she said back. Draco wondered what the arse was trying to convince her to do, in her bathroom, no less!

"Hermione Granger," the man said, "I don't give a shite what you want, it's what I want that matters! If I have to force you I will!" Draco was now slightly concerned.

"Please, stop it, Joe! You got a drop on my cute, new knickers!"

"Well, just take them off and put on this towel! Take your bra off while you are at it, too," he said.

Draco wondered what in the bloody hell was happening up there? There was silence for a moment and then the man said, "You have to admit, this part feels good."

"It's okay, but it's a bit warm and sticky," she said.

WARM AND STICKY? Draco was beginning to regret listening to this, but he couldn't stop. He became more panicked when he heard her say, "OH GOD, OH GOD! Stop it! That part hurts so much! I don't want to do this! Don't make me do this! Draco lives right downstairs and he'll hear me if I scream!"

"I don't care if he hears you! He can just come up here and stop me, if he's man enough," the Joe fellow said with a laugh.

Draco was angrier than he had been in a long time. He didn't have time to process his anger, however, when he heard her say, "Ouch, stop, please, I beg you! I'll give you anything, money, jewelry, take it all, just stop hurting me!"

"It's not like I'm killing you! Some women actually like this part. You're acting as if this is your first time! If you would just shut up, you might enjoy this," the bastard said.

All was quiet for a minute, when Joe said, "Now, one hard yank and it's out and I'll be done."

The next thing made Draco's blood run cold. He heard Hermione scream, a blood-curdling scream, laced with pain and fear.

He grabbed his wand, ran out of his bathroom, through his bedroom, sliding on the hardwood floor once, and then he skidded to the door leading to the second floor landing. Thank Merlin! He left it unsealed for emergencies! He ran up the stairs, three at a time, blasted open her door, ran down her hallway, and used his wand to blow her bathroom door to smithereens. What he saw made him sick. That bastard was straddling her, and she was on the bathroom floor, in nothing but a towel. He saw a cute little pair of polka dot knickers and bra beside her on the floor. That was the last conscious thought that he had, and the last thing he remembered seeing.

As if he was some barbarian, or a Muggle, he threw the man off her, and out of the bathroom. Then he took his wand and hexed the man so that he fell to the floor, unconscious. Hermione sat up, from the floor, dazed and confused. Draco ran back in the bathroom, scooped her up from the floor, and took her to her bedroom. As he sat her on the bed, the towel came apart, and fell to the floor. However, he was so concerned for her, he didn't notice.

He put his hand on her face, and trying to mollify her he said, "Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?" She pushed his hand away, humiliated that she was naked before Draco Malfoy himself. She didn't even pick up the towel. She screamed as she continued to push him, hit him and even kick him out of her bedroom, and then she slammed the door shut.

He saved her from a damn sexual assault and she acted this way? No bloody way! He banged on her door and said, "Granger! What the hell's going on? Are you hurt or not?"

"You saw me naked!" she yelled. She jumped up and down in the same spot, screaming. "What were you doing?" she yelled through the door.

"Saving you!" he yelled back. Had she temporarily gone insane?

"Saving me from what? Hot wax?" she asked.

What did she say? He leaned against the door and said, "Hot wax?"

Joe walked down the hallway, his hand on his hurt head, and said, "Yes you stupid fool. I was waxing her!"

He didn't know what that meant. He turned to Joe, confused, and said, "What were you doing to her?"

He heard Hermione scream from the other room, "He was waxing my legs, Malfoy! Joe was just waxing my legs!"

Joe pointed to Draco and said, "I don't like you anymore. You can still be Mr. Hermione Granger someday, but you will never be Mr. Joe Mullins." Joe walked to the bedroom door and said, "Sweetie, I'm leaving. I have to go to St. Mungos for my head injury. Sorry I didn't get to finish you before the stupid man came and hexed me to oblivion. We'll do the other leg another day." He turned back to Draco and said, "I'll send the bill to you! You aren't good enough for her after all."

The man left, Hermione was still locked in her room, and Draco was more bewildered than ever. What was happening here? He walked up to her door and said, "Listen, Hermione, I'm really sorry. I still don't really know what was going on, but when I heard you say, stop it, it hurts, and I don't want to, warm and sticky, I thought the git was sexually assaulting you. Then when you screamed, I stopped listening at the grate and grabbed my wand and came up here to save you." He sat on the floor by her door. "I thought I was doing something noble, you know, like Potter would do, saving you and all."

Hermione opened her door. She had the towel back around her. She only opened the door a crack. She looked down at him on the floor and said, "Oh yes, you saved me from the evil hot wax. First, I saved Harry over the years much more than he ever saved me. Second, stop comparing yourself to Harry. You're two different people. Third, wait, what do you mean you stopped listening at the grate? What grate?" She was more affronted now than when he saw her naked, because she was starting to put all the pieces together.

"Why did you think that?" Hermione asked him.

"I told you, I overheard you," Draco explained.

All of the sudden, she felt mortified. She said, "You heard me…where?"

"I hear you in your bathroom when I'm in mine," he admitted, still sitting on the floor.

She was beyond embarrassed! She slammed her bedroom door shut and screamed! Then, she opened it back up and asked, "WHAT?"

He stood up, put his wand in front of him, in case he needed it, and said, "I'm sorry, Granger. I hear you in your bathroom when I'm in my bathroom, through the heating duct."

"What?" she said in a strangled whisper.

He suddenly felt so small. He should never have listened to her, never. "I only hear you singing sometimes! I don't hear you on the toilet or anything."

"You hear me showering? Singing?" She shut the door again, sat on her bed and felt totally numb. He slipped in the door.

"I am so sorry. I know that was wrong of me."

"Leave," she said softly.

"I'm so sorry!" he said desperately. "Having you for a friend the last few weeks has been more important to me than I could ever express."

If he only knew those words humiliated her more than him seeing her naked, and hurt her more than he would ever know. "You saw me naked," she said. She would deal with one problem at a time.

He sat next to her on the bed. He didn't know what to tell her. It all happened so fast, and he was in such a hurry to see that she was safe, that he hardly noticed she was naked. He didn't want to belittle her embarrassment, and he somehow thought if he told her it was no big deal, and that he really didn't see anything, it would only make her hate him more than he was sure she hated him now. It might make her hate him as much as she did in school.

Her hands went to her face and she repeated, "Draco Malfoy saw me naked."

He bumped his shoulder into hers and said, "Just a bit. Hasn't Potter ever seen you naked?"

"Of course not," she said, almost too calmly for him.

"Do you want to see me naked?" he asked. "I can pull my shorts down right now, and we can call it even."

"Oh, Draco Malfoy, keep your shorts on and just go home. You had good intentions, even if you are a fool. I'll put up a silencing charm right away, so you'll not hear me singing or waxing ever again." She stood up and pointed to her bedroom door. "Leave now, okay, and tell Michael I'm sorry about tonight."

He stood up and said, "No, you can't cancel tonight. This isn't Michael's fault. Don't take it out on him! You're angry with me. What can I do to make it up to you?" He took her by her shoulders and actually shook her. "We can work this out, please, Hermione," he softly pleaded.

"There's nothing to work out, but frankly Draco, I don't want to do this anymore, the bet, living here, any of it."

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Go away, Draco," she said, resigned.

He didn't like being called just plain 'Draco' by her. He missed being called 'Draco Malfoy'. What did this mean? He decided to ask her that very question. "What do you mean, Hermione?"

"I mean I don't want to be your friend anymore," she finally said. She never really wanted to be his friend in the first place. She wanted so much more, but she finally woke up from her dream and saw that there would never be anything more. As a result, she was giving up in defeat. Now Draco Malfoy could hurt as much as she did and she didn't even care.

He walked down the hallway, turned back to look at her once, and watched as she shut her bedroom door. He took three steps back and heard her as she started to cry. He realized something: his sudden status back to being enemy number one had to have more to do with the mere fact that he had just saw her naked, and heard her singing in the shower, and for the life of him, he had no idea what that reason was, but damn it all to hell, he would find out. He wasn't going to lose the only woman he had ever liked because of a hot wax and overheard words.

_Coming up next chapter:_

_He asked, "Where are you going, all dressed up?"_

"_One of my best friends and I have dates tonight, and he is really handsome and posh, and I don't want to embarrass him, so I thought I should dress up," she said._

"_Well, I know you aren't talking about Potter, because he isn't handsome, and the Weasel is so far from posh it's pathetic. Could you by chance mean me?" Draco asked, hopeful. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend any longer."_

"_Oh, Draco Malfoy, when will you learn? Friends say things they don't mean all the time, just like when I say I am going to marry you someday. I don't mean that, I and didn't mean I didn't want to be your friend."_

_Draco didn't know whether to smile or cry at that statement__._


	6. 6 God Created Woman

**Chapter 6 – God created Woman:**

Somewhere, at one point in her life, Hermione saw a poster that had a phrase she would always remember. The poster said that God created Man in his image, and then he created Woman. He created woman from Adam's rib, to stand by his side, to be his equal. He didn't create her from his foot, to be beneath him. He didn't create her from his skull, to be above him. He didn't create her from his hand, to be carried by him. He created her from his rib, to stand by his side, for all time. She always liked that saying, no matter what someone's belief in a higher power might be. She liked that thought.

She decided to be the bigger man, and apologize to Draco. He didn't even know why she was angry. He didn't mean to hurt her with his words, and she honestly didn't want to hurt him with hers. He had no way to know why she was so hurt, because she had never told him her feelings, and after all, he wasn't a Seer. He couldn't see the future, or what was inside her mind, and he certainly couldn't see what was inside her heart. If he wanted her friendship, by Adam or Eve, she would be the best friend he would ever have. She needed friends and apparently so did Draco.

She decided to finish getting dressed, changing into a brown skirt and an off-white long sleeve sweater with a square neckline. She put on some jewelry and makeup. She grabbed a jacket and her purse. She probably didn't look as good as she would have if Joe hadn't been shot down in action, but she didn't look terrible either.

Fifteen minutes before seven she stood outside his door, debating on whether to knock, or not to knock. He took care of her dilemma by walking down the stairs from his second floor. He saw her at his door, and stopped in the middle of the stairs. She turned to look at him. He thought she looked pretty. She thought he looked handsome.

He finished walking down the stairs and said, "I was just upstairs knocking on your door."

"I was just down here knocking on yours."

He walked up to her and he touched the sleeve of her sweater. "Nice, very fancy," he said, feeling the smooth material of her jumper. He asked, "Where are you going, all dressed up?"

"One of my best friends and I have dates tonight, and he's really handsome and posh, and I don't want to embarrass him, so I thought I should dress up," she said.

"Well, I know you aren't talking about Potter, because he isn't handsome, and the Weasel is so far from posh it's pathetic. Could you by chance mean me?" Draco asked, hopeful. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend any longer."

"Oh, Draco Malfoy, when will you learn? Friends say things they don't mean all the time, just like when I say I'm going to marry you someday. I don't really mean that, and I didn't really mean that I didn't want to be your friend."

Draco didn't know whether to smile or cry at that statement.

"I'm not one of your best friends," he said. Her smile vanished. She looked down at the floor, awkwardly. He put his thumb and forefinger on her chin and pulled her face up to his, so he could look her square in the eye. She thought her heart would melt. He said, "I'm your very best friend." To her amazement, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She wanted to cry, it was so sweet and endearing. She was so shocked she dropped her purse.

Then, she wanted to spit in his eye when he bent down to pick it up, touched her bare leg with his hand, and as he placed her purse back on her shoulder, said with a smile, "We have about five minutes, if you need me to help you finish waxing. Your leg has stubble."

She started to put on her jacket, but stopped. "You're an arse, Draco Malfoy," she said.

He laughed. She didn't have stubble. "Does that mean you forgive me?" he asked.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked back.

"What did you do?" he asked her. "You weren't in the wrong, I was. I'm surprised you changed your mind, though. I already called Michael and cancelled for you."

Her face fell. She looked positively crestfallen. She was upset, however, because she wouldn't be able to spend the evening with Draco, not because she wouldn't be able to spend it with Michael. She tried to smile, though she was still having an out-of-body experience from when he touched her leg, and she said, "Well, you'll just have to put up with a third wheel then, because I'm joining you and your date." She said that at the last minute. She wasn't even aware she was going to say it. She was going to say, "Have a good evening, then."

He smiled and said, "I don't mind a third wheel, especially one that's as pretty as you are." He regretted saying it the moment it came out of his mouth. Not because it wasn't true, but because he was flirting with her again. He did that with women when he found them attractive, and to be realistic, she was extremely attractive.

Hermione tried not to think about the fact that he had just said that she was pretty. Ron and Harry told her that she was pretty sometimes, and frankly, she never really believed them. She always assumed they were just being nice. Draco probably was just being nice, too, polite and all. Her smile faded, but she said, "You look very nice too, Madelyn's a lucky girl."

He wondered why she looked sad all of the sudden. He said, "And Michael is a very lucky man. I didn't really call Michael to cancel. Here, take my arm and I'll apparate us there."

If she took his arm, she might rip off his clothes, because he looked that handsome tonight, and he smelled that good and when he touched her face and her leg, she felt nothing but pure bliss. To be on the safe side she said, "We can apparate ourselves." There was already one incident of suspected sexual assault tonight. Hermione didn't want to make that two.

He shrugged, but still he took her arm and disapparated them both to Diagon Alley.

She looked around and said, "You brought us blocks from the gallery and we're still a bit early."

"I thought we could walk," he said. He didn't know why he wanted to walk with her, he just did.

"It's cold," she uttered, wrapping her arms around her. She had only brought a lightweight jacket, which was still draped over her arm, and snow was falling all around.

She placed her arms in the sleeve of her jacket, when she heard him say, "I'll keep you warm." He wondered why he said that. He WAS flirting with her! He was flirting with his friend, Hermione Granger, on a night when they had dates with others! WHY? Did it have anything to do with seeing her naked earlier? Normally, he would slip his arm around a girl if he said something like that, and that was what he was thinking when he first said it, but instead he slipped off his coat and put it on her shoulders, so she would assume that was what he meant.

They walked with ease down the street. Their arms swung at their sides, and twice his hand brushed hers. He reached over and took her hand. She looked up at him, eyes wide, and he laughed and let go of her hand. He turned his head toward the street, so not to look at her. He was beyond uncomfortable. He wasn't sure why he grabbed her hand.

They had almost reached the gallery when Hermione walked right out of her shoe. She even took several more steps before she noticed. He heard her laugh, looked down, saw one shoe on, one shoe off, and joined her, shaking his head in laughter. He jogged back and got her shoe for her. He bent down, and she placed her hand on his shoulder as he placed one hand on her calf, and with his other, placed the shoe on her foot. As his hand was still on her leg he said, "Maybe I was wrong about that stubble statement."

Two older women walked by and said, "What a cute couple."

Draco stood up and said, "We're a couple."

Hermione liked how that sounded.

"Isn't that crazy?" he asked.

She hated how that sounded.

He found he was having trouble breathing. He placed his hands behind his back so he wouldn't reach for her hand again. He could tell he was causing her discomfort, and wasn't even sure why he was acting this way with her. He looked back over at her, but she was walking slightly ahead of him by this time. They reached the gallery, and Michael was waiting outside for them. She ran to him, put one hand on his arm, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 'Well, that was rather forward of her,' Draco thought.

Michael said, "Madelyn and I started talking and discovered we were your dates for tonight."

"Where is she now?" Hermione asked as Draco walked over to them.

"Inside. It was too cold out here for her," Michael said. He reached over and shook Draco's hand. "Malfoy, good to see you, again."

Draco tried to be friendly, but he suddenly didn't like Corner as much as he thought he did. He did smile however and ask Hermione, "Where's my lovely date?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was having fun. She really was having a very good time. Michael was witty, intelligent, droll, and good-looking. He was almost perfect for a future boyfriend. Draco was witty, intelligent, droll, and good-looking, almost perfect for a future husband. What was the difference between them? Perhaps it was the difference between loving with your brain, and loving with your heart. Michael was the type of man a girl loved with her brain, so she could reason that he would make a good boyfriend. Draco was the type of man a girl loved with her heart, so she knew deep in her soul that he would make a good husband. She tried to reason it out, why she classified one as a boyfriend, and one as a husband, when the likelihood was that neither would be either.

Too much thinking caused her mind to swirl. She couldn't wrap her brain around that concept, so she decided to stop thinking. For this one night, she would try to stop thinking, analyzing, and being overwhelmed, and just FEEL! Have fun and feel!

Michael was attentive to her all night. She tried to be attentive to him as well, but she found that she kept glancing over at Draco and Madelyn. They, too, seemed to be having a relatively good time. Madelyn kept touching Draco, just little touches to his arm and his chest. Once she brushed his hair away from his eyes. A few times, she would touch him, and then bring her hand back to touch her own neck or chest. Hermione thought she was witnessing some ancient mating ritual. That would be her next article. Draco even touched her back a few times.

Michael hadn't touched Hermione once except at the start of the date, when she kissed him on the cheek. Of course, to be fair, she hadn't touched him since then either. She wondered why. Now Draco touched Madelyn's cheek, just as he did that night he helped her with lasagna, the only difference was that she probably had something on her face that night, and with Madelyn, he just wanted to touch her. Just as the mystery writer said in his article, a touch on the cheek was an intimate gesture. Draco was sharing intimate gestures with a woman he just met, and yet, he had touched Hermione a few times this evening. Were those touches intimate?

She looked back at Michael. He seemed so animated as he pointed at a piece of artwork, his hand following the lines of the brush strokes, his eyes following his hand as he spoke of the colour scheme and the texture. As he spoke, she lifted her hand. She was bound and determined to touch him. Her hand was almost to his face, when he suddenly turned to her and asked, "What do you think?" Just then, her finger poked him in the eye. He covered his eye with his hand, the other eye instantly watering.

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder (at least she was finally touching him) and said, "I am so sorry, Michael."

Draco walked up to the pair and said, "I should have warned you, old man, she's a bit of a klutz. I consider her armed and dangerous each moment of the day that she's awake and moving."

Michael smiled, hand still over his eye, and said, "I'll excuse myself for a moment." He walked over to the bathrooms.

Draco laughed and Hermione said, "Shut up, Malfoy. It was an accident."

"Don't call me Malfoy," he said, suddenly serious.

"What would you have me call you? Idiot?" she asked.

"No, I like your nickname for me," he said.

"You mean, Draco Malfoy. You said that wasn't a nickname," she said back.

"Either call me Draco Malfoy or I'll start calling you by a nickname," he said.

"I don't care if you call me Hermione Granger or not," she said, smiling.

"I was thinking maybe 'Hermie' or 'Grange' or perhaps just 'Herm'," he said.

She hit his arm and said, "Call me any of those, and watch those little things you call testicles go bye, bye!"

"Ouch, that's almost literally hitting below the belt," he said.

"Where's your date?" she suddenly asked.

"She went to the loo," he said.

"Why, did you poke her in the eye, too?" She smiled. "Really, you two seem to be hitting it off, don't you?" She turned from him and looked at another painting.

He stood beside her, not facing her, and said, "You and Michael don't seem to be hitting it off, not as far as I can see."

"Actually, I thought we were," she said, honestly. Maybe she wasn't a good judge of these things. "Just because I'm not continually touching him, and he hasn't touched my cheek yet, doesn't mean we aren't getting along."

He turned to look at her. He continued to look at her. What did she mean by the 'touching the cheek' comment? Did she know he wrote those articles? Finally, she turned to look at him and she said, "Stop staring at me."

He turned from her, walked over to the next painting, and asked, "What do you think of this one, Hermie?"

She hit his arm, for the second time, and said, "That is a horrible nickname, and I swear, you better stop calling me that."

He said, "Fine, I'll call you what I did in school." A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne. He grabbed two glasses, started to hand her one, remembered that she didn't drink and placed one back on the tray.

"You better not call me Mudblood, Draco," she said, suddenly serious. She looked close to being hurt. "If you do, those will be the last words I ever let you utter to me, even in jest."

He said, "I really wouldn't call you that now, but I called you other things in school." He downed his whole flute, and placed it on top of a statue, which was one of the art pieces. Hermione picked it up, rubbed away the ring, and placed it on a tray as another waiter walked past. He grabbed another full one.

She said, "You're hopeless. What else did you call me that wouldn't make me hex you right here and now?"

He took another large drink and said, "Oh, I called you those types of names too, but I remember calling you a few good ones, but never to your face, and never to anyone that mattered."

"You're incorrigible," she said. He took another large drink and she took the glass from him. He was drinking too much.

"And you're adorable," he found himself saying. He took the champagne flute from her hand and finished off his second drink. Then he reached for her cheek and said, "You have an eyelash on your cheek."

She leaned away from him. Why was he flirting so much with her tonight, especially when he was here with another woman, and especially since he didn't like her in that sense? Michael stood behind her, and as she stepped back, she ran into his chest. She turned suddenly, and he was forced to put his arms around her, so she wouldn't fall. He smiled at her and said, "You do have an eyelash on your cheek." He kept his left arm around her waist, and his right hand went to her cheek, picked off the eyelash, held it in front of her mouth, and said, "Make a wish."

She smiled. She blew the eyelash from his hand. He smiled as well, bent his head, and kissed her mouth softly. Okay, she didn't really feel butterflies, but it was at least pleasant. She turned to Draco and said, "Later, Draco Malfoy." She took Michael's hand freely in hers, and they walked over to another painting.

Draco stood there in shock, grabbed another flute of champagne, and said, "Fucking eyelash."

_Coming up in the next chapter:_

_Draco asked Madelyn, "Do you know who that reporter is that writes that romance advice column?"_

"_The man or the woman?" she asked, "because not even Hermione knows who the man is."_

_He smiled. He already knew who the man was, because it was he. He said, "The woman writer, who is she?"_

"_No one really knows," Madelyn said, "but a few of us suspects it is our own dear assistant editor, Hermione Granger, herself."_

_Draco suddenly felt he as if was seeing double. Perhaps he drank too much champagne. Perhaps he was just shell shocked to find out the woman he had a crush on was Hermione. Or perhaps, and most likely, he was shocked because deep in his heart, he wanted it to be her. He looked over as Michael and Hermione held hands. What had he done?_


	7. 7 Beauty is Only Skin Deep

**Chapter 7 – Beauty is Only Skin Deep, but Stupid is Forever****:**

One time in school, Draco Malfoy was making fun of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Back then, it was his favourite past time. He said something about Harry's scar, and her buckteeth and frizzy hair, and he'll never forget what Hermione said to him in return. She said, "Beauty's only skin deep, Malfoy, but stupid lasts forever. Think about it." He remembered thinking about it, and not having a clue what she meant. Now he knew why he didn't know what she meant. It was because he was a beautiful, but stupid, fool.

He gave her away without due consideration. He only wanted her as a friend, at least that was what he thought, and now it might be too late to change from friends to lovers, because she was having fun with Michael 'the wanker' Corner. Every time Draco looked over at Hermione, she seemed to sense it. She would return his stare. Once she winked at him. Once she smiled and then made a face. The last time, she stuck her tongue out at him. He wanted to look at her once more to see what she would do, but Madelyn kept talking to him. What was her problem anyway? Oh, yeah, they were on a date.

They had absolutely nothing in common. He wondered if Hermione had even put any thought in finding him a good date this time, because he knew she didn't the first time, and he was having his doubts about this time. Madelyn was nice enough, but she didn't light his fire. He even did the little 'touch her cheek' thing to see if a spark would ignite and it didn't. Hell, he felt more fire in his belly when he touched Hermione's leg earlier than he felt with this girl. He didn't particularly like talking to her, he didn't think she was very attractive, and she certainly was not as smart as Hermione.

Hermione. He kept thinking about Hermione. Where had she gone anyway? The art gallery wasn't that big. They had dinner reservations, as a group, in half an hour. He couldn't wait for dinner. He wouldn't be alone with Madelyn any longer, he wouldn't have to endure her touching him, or her boring stories, and plus, he would be with Hermione.

Damn, he was falling for Granger. That just couldn't be! No bloody way! She was pretty, smart, endearing, engaging, wonderful, and the truth was that he did notice her naked body earlier, and it was bloody fabulous! He looked around once more. There she was, her hand on Michael's arm, his arm pointing to a painting. Why did he have to keep touching her?

"Draco, did you hear me?" Madelyn asked.

"What?" he asked in an annoyed voice.

"We aren't clicking are we?" she asked with a laugh. He turned to look at her.

"No, I'm sorry," he said.

"You know, you don't seem the type that needs to be fixed up on dates, so what gives? Why did you ask Hermione to find you a date?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

Why did he ask her to find him a date? Instead of answering her question, Draco asked one of his own. Draco asked Madelyn, "Do you know who that reporter is that writes that romance advice column?"

"The man or the woman?" she asked, "because not even Hermione knows who the man is."

He smiled. He already knew who the man was, because it was he. He said, "The woman writer, who is she?"

"No one really knows," Madelyn said, "but a few of us suspect it's our own dear assistant editor, Hermione Granger, herself."

Draco suddenly felt as if he was seeing double. Perhaps he drank too much champagne. Perhaps he was just shell shocked to find out the woman he had a crush on, other than Hermione, was also Hermione. On the other hand, perhaps, and most likely, he was shocked because deep in his heart he wanted it to be her. He looked over as Michael and Hermione held hands. What had he done?

It was all making sense. The article he found on her dining room table was about HER disastrous first blind date. The more he thought about each article, the more he knew it was her, and he had a crush on her, and she thought they were just friends, and she was at that very moment touching Michael Corner's chest with her hand. She was flirting with him! Draco shook his head and realized that although he shouldn't care, he in fact did care very, very much, and he was very, very screwed.

Madelyn said, "I think I'll go. Have fun staring at Hermione."

All Draco could say in response was, "Thanks." Hermione looked over at him again, and even though she had her hand in Corner's greasy clutches, she smiled at him. Then, she mouthed one word to Draco, and that word was 'thanks'.

After a while, Hermione walked over to Draco and said, "Are you and Madelyn ready to go to the restaurant?"

"She left me," Draco said with a shrug.

"Oh no, what did you do?" she asked.

"I didn't do anything, but I need to ask you, did you fix me up with her in retaliation for your stupid, first blind date?" he asked.

"She's not that bad," Hermione said defensively.

"Yes, she was," Draco said. No, she wasn't, but he suddenly wanted Hermione to feel bad. "I fixed you up with an effing prince and you fixed me up with a stupid stepsister. Thanks, Granger." He was angry, but not for the reasons he was expressing. He couldn't tell her the real reason he was angry, because he himself wasn't sure that why he was. He stormed to the front doors of the gallery. She ran after him.

"Wait, Draco," she said, pulling on his arm. He looked at her hand on his arm and then at her face. NO, NO, NO! He didn't want to have a crush on Hermione Granger! "Let me go tell Michael that we're going to call it a night, and then you and I can go home and talk about it."

He didn't want to ruin her date did he? Was he really that much of a selfish git? He said, "Thanks, I would appreciate that. I am feeling pretty down." Yes, Draco Malfoy was a selfish git. He always was, and always would be, and he was damn proud of that fact.

She smiled again, and said, "Wait right here." She ran up to Corner, said something to him, he looked over at Draco, waved at him, smiled at her, kissed her cheek, and that was it. Maybe he was telling her that it was just as well, because he didn't like her anyway.

Hermione ran up to Draco and said, "He said it was fine with him, and we could go to the restaurant tomorrow night."

Draco's selfishness just landed Hermione Granger a second date!

Draco said, "Hey, you know what, I think I'll just go to the bar. Go finish your date with Corner." He walked out the door and disapparated away.

She looked at his retreating figure, confused. Michael walked up to her and said, "Is dinner back on, then?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a glorious first date, Hermione let Michael walk her to the front door of her building. It was cold and she shivered, so he put his hands on her upper arms and rubbed them up and down. She felt a tiny tinge of a butterfly in the lower regions of her abdomen, somewhere between her stomach and her intestines. Either it was gas, or she was starting to like him.

She wondered if she should invite him up to her flat. What would happen if she did? They could talk and maybe kiss a bit. They couldn't do more because Hermione didn't do more on the first date. Moreover, she was only half waxed, thanks to Draco. She was about to open her mouth to suggest this to Michael when he said, "I had a blast tonight, may I see more of you?"

"In what sense?' she asked, confused. Then, she realized he meant 'a second date', not that he wanted literally to see more of her. She smiled and answered honestly, "I mean, sure, I would like to see you again."

He leaned toward her, put his hand under her chin, and brought his lips down to hers. He gave her a simple, sweet, undemanding kiss. He smiled at her, touched her cheek, (damn right it was an intimate gesture), and said, "I'll call you on Monday and we can set something up. If you see Draco, tell him I owe him a big favour for suggesting we go out together." He smiled one last time, a genuine, 'I really am happy' smile and walked away. She watched until he was out of sight and then she unlocked the outer door. She was about to unlock the next door, when she dropped her keys.

Just as she bent down to pick them up, Draco walked out of his flat to see if she was in the door yet. He had seen her walk up to the front door a few moments before. Now he felt like a stalker or a busybody neighbour. He didn't want to be caught 'waiting up' for her, so he apparated upstairs to the top floor.

She stood up, placed the keys back in the door, unlocked the door, and walked inside. She went to Draco's flat and knocked on his door. She wanted to make sure he got home safely. When there was no answer, she started up the stairs.

On the second staircase, right before her landing, she heard him walking down from his office. She stopped on the stairs. He turned the corner, went to her door on the third floor, and stood in front of it. He wondered if she was inside yet. He knocked on her door. She crouched down, and quietly walked back down two steps so he wouldn't see her.

Just then, Draco got a call on his mobile phone. Hermione leaned closer to listen. She didn't have any qualms about eavesdropping; after all, Draco had eavesdropped on her while she was in the bathroom!

Draco said, "Yes, Draco Malfoy. Oh, hello, Michael." Hermione tried to listen more carefully. Was it her Michael? Wait, did she just call Michael Corner, 'her Michael'? She heard Draco say, "Really, you thought she was charming? Huh, imagine that." There was a moment of silence and Draco said, "Come now, man, get a grip, she's hardly the prettiest girl you've ever seen." Hermione felt like Draco had kicked her in the chest. She slinked down two more steps, but she could still hear his side of the conversation.

Draco said, "Well, there's no accounting for taste, but I'm glad you had a good time and if you really want to see her again, go for it."

Hermione felt hot tears against her eyes. 'No accounting for taste?' Draco Malfoy was the same prat he always was, just dressed up like her friend. A friend wouldn't talk that way about her. She heard one last thing, he said, "No really, I think that's great, and I swear, we're only friends, and that's all we'll ever be." Hermione walked all the way downstairs and sat on the very last step, by the front doors. Her feelings were hurt and she didn't know what else to do.

Draco threw his phone against the wall, where it shattered to pieces.

He sat outside her door for a very long time. He knocked twice more. Where was she? He saw her come in the first set of doors, and he knew she wasn't with Corner. He was about ready to open her door with magic, but thought against it after the whole 'waxing' incident. He would have to remember to get her a new bathroom door tomorrow, since he destroyed it earlier this evening.

He finally walked down the stairs, and on the last flight, he saw her, her back to him, on the very bottom step. She was crying. What had Michael done to her? He walked the rest of the way down, sat beside her and said, "Why the tears? Did you have a bad time tonight?"

"Did Michael?" she asked. She decided to confront him head on, about what he said on the phone, instead of letting it fester between them. The whole misunderstanding thing had been so done before, and she was tired of it.

"What?" he asked.

"When you spoke to Michael a bit ago, on your phone, did he say if he had a good time?" she asked. She turned her face to the wall.

"You heard that?" he asked. OH NO! She heard his side of the conversation.

"Sorry, but I'm an eavesdropper at heart. You shouldn't be friends with me, but then again, there's no accounting for taste." She stood up and said, "I'm sorry you didn't have a nice date. We can forgo the report to each other tomorrow. I had a nice time. You didn't. Short and sweet. Goodnight, Draco Malfoy." She started up the stairs.

He stayed on the bottom step, staring into the great vast nothingness which was his existence, and then he stood up and said, "I'm sorry, Granger." He ran up the stairs, pulled on her arm, and turned her to face him. "I said those things to be mean, to curb Corner's enthusiasm, because I had a bloody rotten date, and you two had a fabulous date. The old, petty, spoiled-brat in me came out, and I said hateful, hurtful things. I value our friendship even more than I dare admit, so if you can't forgive me, I just might cry, too. You don't want to see a grown man cry do you?" It wasn't the total truth, but it was as much as he was ready to admit to now.

He reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek before it fell on her chin. Damn those butterflies for returning to her belly! She knew his apology was sincere, because she could see it in his eyes. If he never offered her anything else, such as love, companionship, or three children, she at least knew that the offer of this apology, along with the accompanying friendship, was a sincere gesture on his part.

"I'm sorry you had a rotten time. I didn't think Madelyn was that bad. The truth was you tried very hard to find me a good date, and I gave it no effort at all," Hermione said. She started back up her stairs and said, "Come up, it's late, but I feel like a cup of tea. How about you?"

They sat side by side on her couch, her back in her comfortable pajamas, which he suddenly found sexy. Actually, her big fat cat Iggy was between them. Draco went to pet the cat's ears and Iggy hissed at him. Draco hissed back. Iggy jumped off the couch, gave Draco a dirty look, and jumped up in the chair.

"Don't hiss at him," she said.

"He hissed at me first," Draco said.

She laughed and said, "I was reprimanding him, not you, you git."

He threw a throw pillow at her. He put his tea down and said, "Mind if I get something stronger than tea?"

"I have some beer in the icebox. Ron left them there," she said.

"Do they have weasel germs on them?" he asked, standing.

"I don't think he licked every bottle, if that's what you mean," she snorted. He came back to the couch with two beers. He handed one to her.

"No, I can't drink beer. I always have to go to the bathroom immediately after the first drink," she said.

"Alcohol does that to everyone," he said.

"It does?" she asked, seriously.

He sat beside her, opened the first bottle, handed it to her, opened the second one, and laughed as he said, "Did you think that was strictly a Hermione Granger phenomenon?"

"Well, yes, I did. If it does that to everyone, why do people drink?" she asked.

"Good question," he laughed. She put her tea on the side table, and clanged her bottle next to his. "The trick is not to give into the temptation to piddle. Just hold it in, because if you go the first time, you'll go all night."

"Did Draco Malfoy just say the word, 'piddle'?" she asked with a laugh. "Is that why lines are so long at the loo at bars?" She took a small drink and made a funny face.

He smiled at her. Michael was right. She was perfect. "What was that face about, Granger?"

"Beer tastes terrible, and it makes you pee, and so really, what is the appeal?" She put the bottle down. "Did you really have a bad time with Madelyn tonight? Because it didn't appear so to me. You kept touching each other and all. It was like watching an ancient mating ritual or something."

He choked on his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, "Ancient Mating Ritual? What the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, you know," she said. She got in her comfortable position, and this time, she placed her feet in his lap. He felt a bolt of electricity from her feet directly to his groin. He took a pillow and placed it under her feet, and above his lap, to act as a barrier, or buffer, of sorts.

She continued, moving her hands to demonstrate everything she said. "She would touch your arm, and then touch her neck and chest, and then throw her head back and laugh. You even touched her face. It was like watching a nature film about animals mating."

He smiled, because to him, it sounded like she was slightly jealous, and if he was jealous, she might as well be, too. He removed her feet from his lap, threw the pillow at the chair, which made Iggy run from the room. He put his beer on the table beside the couch, and scooted closer to her. She looked slightly alarmed. She scrambled to a seated position, and gave him a glaring stare.

He said, "Show me what you mean."

_Coming up in the next chapter:_

"_Do you have you a secret?" she asked._

"_I do now," he said back to her._

"_What is it?' she asked him. He carefully moved the hair off her shoulder, and tucked it behind her ear. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his lips almost touching her skin, and said…_

_(A/N: HA/HA/ HA! Evil cliffhanger. Yep, I still got it.)_


	8. 8 Curiosity Killed the Cat:not Iggy

**Chapter 8 – Curiosity Killed the Cat (Not Iggy):**

The dictionary definition of the word 'Curiosity' is, "the desire or eagerness to know something, or to get information, the excessive interest in other people and their affairs."

There is even an old idiom about curiosity and cats. It starts with, "Curiosity killed the cat," and it ends with, "but satisfaction brought him back."

Draco Malfoy was curious to have Hermione touch him and to find out if he did in fact have any feelings at all for her. If he did, he would have to do something about it. If he didn't, then Michael Corner could have her, and he would be happy for them. He usually found out if a woman liked him by the old 'touching her cheek' thing. If he touched her cheek, and felt electricity, he was good to go. For him to get the chance to touch her cheek, he needed an excuse. This was the perfect excuse.

"Show me what you mean," he asked, leaning closer to her.

She looked weary. She said, "What do you mean, show you?"

"Touch me the way you said she was touching me," he said. He wanted to add, 'and the way you touched Corner all night,' but he didn't.

She laughed and said, "You are verifiably insane!"

"Come on! How am I supposed to know what in the hell you're talking about if you don't have the common courtesy to show me? It's only fair, I mean, if I made a fool of myself out there, or something, don't I have a right to see what it looked like?" He was grasping for straws. "Save me from future embarrassment!"

Hermione picked up her beer, took a long swig, made a funny face, and said, "Stand up."

He stood up. She remained on the couch and took a second, longer drink, and then stood up beside him. She figured if she was really going to do this thing, then she needed some alcohol to loosen her inhibitions. She started to take another drink, as a ploy to delay the inevitable, but he took her bottle from her, downed the rest in one long drink, and he placed the empty bottle on the floor.

"Are you an alcoholic now, Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

"Shut up and touch me," he said.

She took a deep breath. She said, "It's really quite simple. She would touch your arm like this," Hermione reached over and touched his bicep, "and she would give it a little squeeze," she squeezed it for emphasis, "and while that seems innocent enough, what she was really doing was saying, 'wow big muscles, I'm impressed'."

"Do you think I have big muscles?" he asked with a half smile.

"They're passable," she said.

"Feel again. I have great muscles." He held out his arm and made his bicep muscle harden and she felt again.

"I'm not sure I feel a difference," she joked.

She removed her hand from his arm. She knew she was blushing. Draco smiled and said, "You should have your writer friend write up an article on this, so everyone can share in your wisdom. What else?" He was still grinning. His smile would not waver, and he knew he looked like an idiot. He didn't know whether it was the beer or the company; he only knew one thing, he liked it when she touched him.

"What else?" she asked back.

"Yes, then what happened?" he finally asked.

"Well, once in a while after she would touch you," she touched his arm again, "she would touch her own neck or chest like this," and Hermione put her hand on her neck, and then let it slip down to her chest. "This move said, 'I'm really open and ready for you, and I'm offering myself to you', and it also calls attention to a part of the female anatomy that most men like."

"The neck?" he asked, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Lower," she said, indignant.

"The collar bone? I love a good collar bone," he joked.

"A smidgen lower," she said.

"Feet?"

"Higher, idiot," she said.

"Oh, those things," he said, his eyes sparkling. "See, I told you that I need you to teach me these things."

"Well, a lot can be said with just a touch," she concluded. He turned around, got his beer off the side table, and took a large drink. Hermione reached over, took the bottle from him, and took a drink from his bottle. Was it suddenly hot in this flat? He was hot. Was anyone else hot?

He watched her lips with great interest as they went around the mouth of the bottle, the bottle that was just at his mouth, and he wondered what those lips would feel like around his. He took the beer from her mouth, took another drink himself, and then reached in front of her to place the beer bottle on the mantel of the fireplace. Meanwhile, his arm brushed her body as he leaned forward; his face was mere centimeters from her own.

"You don't need anymore," he stated, as a matter of fact, while he straightened back up. He was going to hell. He was sure of it, because while he was standing so close to her, he was having visions of her naked body in his head. Maybe he was the one that had too much to drink.

"I thought you said I didn't have a man because I didn't drink enough, and now you say I've had enough to drink," she said, bemused by him.

"Stop changing the subject. Where were we?" he asked, dazed.

"I don't know, I don't even remember what we were discussing," she said in a husky whisper.

"I remember," he said. "You were showing me all the ways Marilyn touched me."

"Madelyn," she said.

"Same difference," he said.

"Not really," she said.

"Yes it is," he said, smiling. Were they arguing about his date's name?

"No, because one's her name and one's not. How would you like to be called Drano?" she said, laughing. Beer made her feel happy. So did Drano, she meant, Draco. She turned to the mantel, grabbed the beer, took a big drink, and then offered it to him. He took it from her and downed the rest. He didn't want her to have anymore, so he was basically saving her. It was the same way he saved her from the hot wax, he reasoned.

"What were we talking about, again?" Now Draco was confused, and a wee bit drunk.

"I shall recap for you. You suggested I touch you the way Marilyn touched you, I mean, Madelyn," she said. She shook her head. She felt hot and bothered. They were almost standing nose to nose, but not touching. He had no trouble touching that woman tonight. 'Touch me!' she yelled in her head.

"TOUCH ME!" she yelled. Oh, she didn't yell it in her head. Lord, she said it aloud.

"Pardon?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"That's not a brow raising statement, so put that thing down," she said, reaching up to his eyebrow to bring it down. Even if he didn't feel anything when she touched him, she felt it times one hundred. "I meant that you should show me how you touched her now." She thought that was a good save. She swayed a bit and said, "Can we sit down for the next part though, Draco Malfoy? I'm so dizzy."

"Sure," he said. He would prefer to stand, and if she swayed again, he could catch her, but he felt slightly dizzy too, so they could sit down for this next part. She could sit right next to him. He sat down on her couch, patted the seat next to him and said, "Sit, Hermione. Now, you claim I touched her, right?" She sat down and turned to face him slightly, and he did likewise. She felt like she couldn't see straight because he was so close to her.

"Yes, you touched her cheek," she said.

"Yes, I touched her cheek," he confirmed. "Like this." His fingertips grazed her cheek lightly, so lightly she might have imagined it, except for the tingling feeling in her lower belly. The tingling turned to a multitude of butterflies as his hand came up to the other cheek, and with the back of his hand, he skimmed that cheek lightly with his knuckles. Goodness, she liked him so very much. She might even love him, but even if she didn't love him, she definitely still wanted to marry him someday.

His cheek touching test worked. He liked her so very much. He really, really liked her, and not just as a friend. He was in a sticky situation. How could he tell her that he wanted to be more than friends, when he had claimed for weeks that friends were all they were? How could he be sure she wanted more? He leaned over, and cupped her cheek with his hand. His mouth went to hers, lingered there for a minute before touching her, and then he placed a gentle kiss to her mouth. He leaned away, shocked at his own behaviour, but wanting to do it again.

"Why did you do that?" she asked quietly. She really couldn't think straight. He was so close, and she was sure that he had just kissed her, unless she was so drunk that she was hallucinating. In addition, she had to go to the toilet SO badly.

"The cheek touch? To her or to you?" he asked. He wondered if he was making her nervous. He knew she meant the small kiss, not the cheek thing, but he would pretend she meant the cheek thing. Not waiting for an answer, he said, "I did it to her as a test. To see if we had chemistry, if we did, her eyes should dilate, and my heart should beat more rapidly."

"Did you read about that in the Prophet?" she asked. She moved away from him just a fraction. That was the exact thing her mystery writer wrote, and Draco repeated it verbatim.

He was already going to hell, so he might as well add lying to the mix, so he said, "Yes, I read it in that article by that wonderful writer who writes about dating. You touch a woman's cheek, and see if you have chemistry."

"Did you?" She turned to place her back against the sofa, and looked up at the ceiling. "The writer in that article said that a touch of a cheek is an intimate gesture, and you can tell immediately if you like someone, or are attracted to someone. If you feel sparks, or electricity, or if she flinches, and your own pulse quickens, then there is something there. So, did you?" She was breathing hard and seemed anxious.

Draco thought she talked a lot. He was also very interested in the rise and fall of her chest. "What?" he asked. Did she want to know what he felt with her or with Madelyn? Damn, he was drunk.

"Did you have chemistry with her?" she asked.

He was thankful she clarified. He said, "No, not with her."

She finally looked over at him. She said, "Do you feel this test is one hundred percent fool-proof?"

"Yes, I do," he answered steadily.

"You touched my cheek the night I made lasagna," she said. She wanted to add, "and you felt nothing," but she did not. It was a statement, not a question. He honestly didn't remember touching her cheek that night. Did he really? Before he could question her further on the subject, she asked, "When else did you touch her, because I only saw the cheek thing."

He hadn't been aware she had even seen the cheek thing. "You saw that?"

"Yes," she said.

HE WANTED TO KISS HER SO MUCH AT THAT MOMENT THAT HE THOUGHT HE WOULD DIE!

Hermione Granger was the only woman he had ever cared to call a friend, he was going to ruin it by coming on to her, and she would hate him. She would never be his friend again, and if he messed this up, he wouldn't stand a chance at anything more, if she wanted more someday. He knew he wanted more someday. He wanted more now.

Not knowing what to say, he lied again and said, "I leaned over once, and pretended I wanted to tell her a secret," Draco said. That never happened.

"You touched her to tell her a secret?" Hermione asked. Lucky girl. "Do you have a secret?" she asked.

"I do now," he said back to her.

"What is it?' she asked him. He carefully moved the hair off her shoulder, and tucked it behind her ear. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his lips almost touching her skin, and said, "You look so pretty tonight."

She pushed him back with both hands, confused at what he had just said. Did he mean that _she_ looked pretty, or did he mean that was what he said to Madelyn? Hermione Granger was sure of one thing: Draco Malfoy was definitely confusing her.

When she put her hands on his chest, he thought she was going to lean in closer, and maybe kiss him back, but instead, she pushed him back. He leaned back against the couch. He stood up suddenly, and pulled her up by her arm to stand next to him. She was more than compliant and willing; she almost seemed under a spell.

He took a step back, but put his hands on her upper arms, and pulled her with him. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She had no idea what he was doing, or where he was leading her. She placed her hands once again on his chest. He wanted to see if she would be receptive to a kiss, but they had both had too much to drink, and he could tell they were both confused and disoriented. He wasn't even sure what he was planning to do. He kept his hands on her arms, and took one more step back, but he ended up stepping on the beer bottle that he had placed on the floor earlier. The glass shattered under his foot.

He looked down, hands still on her arms. He let go and said, "Sorry, I spilled the beer and broke the bottle." He also broke the spell she was under, for those were the magic words apparently. She moved from his grasp, ran to the other room, came back with a dishcloth and a small broom and dust pail. He bent down and started to pick up the glass shards. She knelt down beside him. He placed the large pieces in her outstretched hand, and proceeded to clean up the rest. She went to the kitchen to discard the large pieces in the trash bin.

He called from the other room and said, "Hey, Hermione, I think I cut my hand."

She hadn't even heard him. She was in the kitchen, in a daze, wondering what in the world was happening between them.

_Coming up in the next chapter:_

"_Why do you suddenly care for me?" she asked._

"_I wouldn't say it's sudden," he said. "I thought it was apparent all along."_

"_What was apparent was that you regarded me as a friend all along."_

"_Maybe now I don't," he started._

"_Maybe now it's too late," she said. "You can't always get what you want."_

_He laughed and said, "Oh, sweet little Hermione, yes I can. I always get what I want."_


	9. 9 The Grass is Always Greener

**Chapter 9 – The Grass is Greener on the other side of the Fence:**

She stayed in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and tried to process all of the events since their dates, which had led them to this moment in time.

The evening started with Draco coming to her rescue, to save her from an evil waxing. Was that something a friend would do? Probably. Okay, so he just wanted to be friends.

Then, they had an awkward moment when he saw her naked, told her more or less that it wasn't a big deal, and she told him that she didn't want to be his friend. Okay, so she didn't want to be friends.

Next, they made up, apologized, and went to the gallery, where he definitely flirted with her! He felt her leg, for golly gee sakes! He told her he would keep her warm with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he stared at her all evening. None of those was things friends did to each other.

Draco was definitely flirting with her. She was sure he was even going to kiss her again before he broke the bottle. Was it because he finally realized she was more than a friend, or was it because Michael liked her, and he now wanted the challenge, the chase? More specifically, being the Draco Malfoy that he was, and being selfish and spoiled, he probably only wanted her because someone else did. The grass always did look greener on the other side of the fence.

She heard him call out that he 'thought he cut his hand'. Either he did or he didn't. How can a person 'think' they cut their hand? They came home, had too much beer, he touched her stupid cheek, he kissed her stupid lips, and now he cut his hand. Fantastic!

"Hermione?" he said from the doorway of the kitchen. He held his right hand cradled in his left. Gee, he did cut his hand.

"Oh my, Draco Malfoy!" she said in a rush. She grabbed his hand and led him to the sink. She turned on the cold tap and placed his lacerated hand under the cold running water. She said, "Stay there." She ran to get her wand. She came back in the kitchen and he was sitting on the floor, the tap was still running, and he was still cradling his hand.

He said, "I don't feel so good."

He WAS drunk and that meant that nothing that happened tonight, from the end of her date to now, was real. He had too much champagne at the gallery, then he went to the bar, and then he practically had two beers here. She turned off the tap, opened her cupboard over the stove for her first aid kit and sat down beside him.

"How did you cut yourself?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, cleaning his wound. She really needed to know. Her future depended on him saying no.

"I think so," he answered honestly.

She frowned. "Then nothing matters, does it?" she asked.

He wasn't so drunk that he didn't know what she was trying to imply. He said, "Everything matters, Granger. You matter, I matter, and what almost happened in the living room earlier matters."

She put her wand to his hand, said a healing spell, and then began to wrap his hand as he spoke. When he finished his sentence, she looked at him and said, "What almost happened in the living room?" She tied the bandage and let go of his hand. She stayed on her knees, and dropped her head to put the extra bandages back in the first aid kit. As she did her hair fell over her face like a curtain, hiding her from his view.

He brushed the lock of hair back with the back of his good hand and said, "This." He placed his hand on the nape of her neck, and from his place on the floor, he pulled her forward, and across his lap, and with his hand firmly on the back of her head, tangled in her hair, he kissed her temple. She blushed and placed her hands on his shoulders. She was totally at his mercy.

"And maybe this," he said. He placed a small line of kisses across her jaw…one kiss, two kisses, and then three. Her chest tingled in excitement. The way she was sitting on his lap, she felt his erection on her bum, so he was slightly excited, too. She tried to pull herself closer to him, to take her weight off his lap by pulling on his shoulders, thereby pressing her thin t-shirt covered breasts firmly against his chest. She was adding to his problem without knowing it, and heat went through him like a surge of energy, starting at his groin, and going to his head. He was a man without reason and he moved deftly, placing her on the rug in front of the sink, and lying beside her.

He said, "And definitely this." He lowered his mouth to hers but she turned her face away from him. He put his finger on her chin and turned her face back to him. "What?" he asked.

"Don't you dare kiss me," she said. She pressed her hands against his chest with all her might, to hold him away from her.

He smiled and said, "Why not?"

"Because you said that you're drunk. I don't want my first kiss with you to be a drunken one," she said.

"You've thought about our first kiss?" he asked.

"No," she lied.

"But you want us to have a first kiss, right?" he asked.

She turned her head away from him again.

So what if he was a bit pissed, he thought. She was being rude and it was frustrating him. He placed his leg over her body and used his whole hand this time to bring her face toward his once more.

"I want to kiss you the way you need kissed, Granger," he said. Hermione was breathing so hard, that he was slightly alarmed. Was she having an asthma attack or something? Then, he saw that she had a tear in her eye. Damn, damn, double fucking damn. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, and moved his leg away from her body, but he kept her on the floor. He said, "Don't cry. Don't ever cry because of me, Hermione. Tell me what's wrong. Don't you want to kiss me?" He brought his face back up from her shoulder, and looked deeply in her eyes.

"I want to kiss you," she admitted.

"And I want to kiss you, so where's the harm?" he asked her.

"The fact that you don't see the harm is the harm," she said.

"Please, my head is spinning, so don't talk nonsense," he said. He placed his forehead next to hers and took a deep breath.

"Why do you suddenly care for me?" she asked.

He brought his face back up to look in her eyes. "I wouldn't say it's sudden," he said. "I thought it was apparent all along."

"What was apparent was that you regarded me as a friend all along."

"Maybe now I don't," he started.

"Maybe now it's too late," she said. "You can't always get what you want."

He laughed and said, "Oh, sweet little Hermione, yes I can. I always get what I want."

"Not this time," she said. She tried to push him off her, but the fact of the matter was that he was far too strong and far too heavy and she felt defeated. All she could do was turn her head again and start to cry. "I think we both had too much to drink," she finally said.

"Tomorrow, when I'm sober, and you're less emotional, I'm going to kiss you, Hermione," he proclaimed. He stood up, with some difficulty, and left her on the floor of her kitchen. She stayed there for a long while. She hadn't heard her door, so she didn't think he had left. She stood up and walked toward the living room. She was right. He was on her couch, and he appeared to be sound asleep. She finished cleaning up the broken bottle and spilled beer. She locked her door, turned out all the lights, and went back to the couch. She took the throw from the back of the sofa, and as he had done for her that one night, she placed it cautiously across his body. She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm by the wrist.

His eyes were still shut, but she now knew he wasn't asleep. He said, "When I tucked you in on the couch, I kissed your cheek goodnight."

"That was your first mistake," she said. He still had her wrist in an iron grip. She finally sat beside his hip, on the narrow expanse of couch that his large body afforded her, and he opened his eyes.

"What was my second mistake?" he asked.

She didn't answer; instead, she asked him another question. "What do you really want from me?" she asked.

"You'll hate me if I tell you," he said. The reason he said that was because what he really wanted was to remain friends. That was the truth, because anything more than that scared him. He had never been in love, not really. He had tons of relationships, many affairs, some one-night stands, and he never kept contact with any of those women. If he lost her friendship, he would die inside. However, if he didn't take a chance with her, and he let her go, what did that say about his true character? He was in a quagmire and what he really wanted from her was to talk to her as a friend and ask her what he should do, but since she was his problem that option was not something he could fathom doing.

She thought about what he said, and she knew that she would only hate it if he said he just wanted to be friends and if he then still kissed her anyway. He couldn't have it both ways. She took a ragged breath in, expelled it slowly and said, "Just tell me."

"May I ask you something first?" he asked. She nodded as she brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"When you told Lavender at Christmas and then again at New Years, that you wanted to marry me someday, why did you say that?" he asked.

She was too embarrassed to answer. Why should she have to proclaim her feelings before he proclaimed his? She wore hers on her sleeve for the world to see! Only Draco Malfoy was too blind to notice. She couldn't help that he kept his feelings bottled inside him. She really felt that she wanted to marry him someday, so she said it, but she couldn't possibly tell him that.

She crawled against his body, to lie next to him on the couch. He moved to his side to give her room. He put his fingertips on her lips, and outlined them. She put her hand on his cheek and cupped his face lightly. Hermione thought he was taking the whole 'intimate gesture' routine to a new level. She put her hand on his, and brought it away from her mouth.

She turned so she was looking up at the ceiling, away from him. She said, "I will answer that question someday, but not now. Tell me what you want from me, and don't just say you want to kiss me."

He wondered if she was clairvoyant, because that was what he wanted at that moment. Since he knew it would hurt her feelings if he said he wanted to remain friends, and since he also really wanted to kiss her, he was without words. He wasn't sure what the total truth was, therefore, he finally decided he would just tell her that he was confused. He really wanted to tell her that he wanted to kiss her, but she spoiled that by telling him he had better not say that.

Instead of saying that he wanted to kiss her, and because he had the beginnings of a fuzzy, alcohol-induced headache, along with a hurt hand, he said what he was originally going to say, and damn his lying, spineless, cowardly soul to hell for doing so. "I just want to be your friend." Now he had to convince his raging hard-on that statement was the truth.

As soon as he saw the hurt in her eyes, he knew that was the wrong thing to say. She stood up and his arms now hurt because they felt empty. He propped his body up on the couch and watched her as she walked toward the hallway.

She turned back and said, "If you want to be my friend, that's fine. That's what we will be, but friends don't cuddle on the couch. Friends don't kiss, or touch each other's legs and cheeks. Friends don't lie, either. Think about that one. If you want to stay on my couch, that's fine with me. Goodnight." She walked from the room, went to her bedroom, and locked the door. She started to cry. She got out a piece of parchment and wrote an open letter to the male mystery writer. She asked him why men were so confusing. She asked him why men wanted what they couldn't have, and when they could have it, why didn't they want it? She asked him all sorts of things, crying the whole time she wrote.

He climbed from the couch, sat outside her door, and wished to hell that she had put a silencing charm on the door. Why did he tell her that he just wanted to be her friend? It was the truth, but only the partial truth. He wanted to be more than a friend, but he had to be sure of her intent first. He wanted to be her friend, her lover, her partner, and her…no, never mind. He was so confused right now, that he didn't know what he wanted. He really just wanted her to stop crying. He slid down on the hardwood floor of her hallway and went to sleep with the gentle sounds of her sobs pounding in his brain, and he dreamt all night long of shattering doors, touching cheeks, killing Michael Corner, and kissing Hermione Granger.

_Coming up the next chapter:_

"_Hide me," he said, "She's coming this way and she looks angry."_

"_Is that the red headed slut from New Years Eve?" she asked._

_He pulled her chair out from her desk, with her still in it, and hid underneath the desk, pulling her legs toward him so that her chair hid his body. He hissed, "Yes, that's her; don't let her know I'm here!"_

_Hermione felt flushed. He placed his cheek next to her outer thigh, and his arms wrapped around her legs. The woman came in her office and said, "Excuse me, but have you seen Draco Malfoy?"_


	10. 10 Have your Cake and Eat it, Too

**Chapter 10 – Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too****:**

Draco Malfoy wanted his cake and he wanted to eat it, too. What was wrong with that? If you have a damn piece of cake in front of you, you might as well eat it. Letting it go to waste was simply not an option. When he woke up, disoriented and confused on the floor, at first he didn't know where he was. When he finally realized where he was and what happened last night, that was the first thought that went through his head. He wanted Hermione Granger as a friend and a lover!

Draco had a pain in his neck. He sat up, with his back against the wall, and it all came rushing toward him. Her bedroom door was open, so she must be awake. He stood up and went to her bathroom to use the facilities. He noticed that the door was fixed. She must have fixed it. He finished his business and went to her bedroom. The sheets were still rumpled. He threw himself face down on her bed. The sheets smelled like her. He turned over and saw pieces of parchment littering the floor. He reached down for one. It was her article for the Daily Prophet, which was an open letter to the other writer.

She wrote, _"I am not a woman who hates men. I love men. I love everything about them. My best friends are men. I love how they can fart without fear of retribution. I love how they can state what they want, and actually go for it. I love how they can be aggressive without being thought of as a 'bitch.' I love how basic their needs are: eat, drink, laugh, and repeat. I love how simple their wants are. The one thing I don't love is when they can't clearly say what they want when it comes to women_."

Draco shut his eyes briefly, and then read on. _"Men are so honest with each other. They don't beat around the bush, or spare feelings. They say it like it is. Why can't they afford women the same courtesy? Why do they say they will call, and they don't? Why do they say they had a nice time, but they didn't? Why do they want their cake, and they want to eat it, too? Why do they kiss you one moment, and then they say they want to just be friends the next?"_ Draco sat up on her bed, and clutched the article to his chest. That last question was directed totally at him and he knew it.

She ended with, _"They want it all and will do whatever they can do to get it. They don't care who they hurt, or what damage they cause, as long as the result is their own happiness. I don't envy that trait. If I did, I myself would be a man, and that is the last thing I want to be."_ That was the last thing Draco wanted her to be, too. He read the last line, _"That is what makes me a woman; the fact that I have empathy, and that I care for others before I care for myself. If that is wrong, then so be it. I am happy with what I am; I just wish men would be happy with what I am, too."_

He dropped the article, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He fell back on her bed and sighed. He messed everything up, and he had to fix it now, before it was too late. First, he had to write his article, while all the thoughts were fresh in his mind.

It was apparent she was gone. He knew it immediately, when he went to make some coffee and he found a note from her taped to the coffeepot. It said, "_Draco, I'm going to my parents house, and I'm spending the night. We'll talk on Monday. Meet me at the Daily Prophet at noon, and we'll go to lunch. Everything will be okay, Love, Hermione."_

She wrote, 'Love, Hermione.' She told him everything would be all right. Damn, she was a better person than he was, and it wasn't just because she was a woman and he was a man. He made his coffee, and sat at her table and started to write his article.

He wrote: _"Dear friend, you want to know why men confuse you? It is so simple that you will wonder why you didn't figure it out for yourself. Men confuse you because they are confused. Simple, really. Why do men say they will call and they don't? Because they are idiots. Why do men say they want to be friends and then try to kiss you? Because they are stupid. Why do men want their cake and want to eat it, too? Because they are selfish bastards. Far be it for me to criticize my own gender, but that is the simple truth. They are what they are, and usually they are proud of it."_

"_Why do some men cheat? Because they want it all. Why don't men see a good thing when it is in front of them? Because they are blind. See, with men, there is a simple answer to all these questions. Things truly are black or white. They are men. Forgive them for it, and try to help them with the error of the way, for they can't help who they are."_ He folded the piece of parchment and slipped it in his pocket. He would see that she got it first thing Monday.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On Monday morning, Hermione sat at her desk editing her own article. She wondered if she would offend her friend, and men in general, by publishing it, but she really wanted a response, so she decided to go ahead and have it published. She called out to her assistant to have it taken to the pressroom. As her assistant walked in, he said, "You have a visitor." Hermione merely nodded. She went back to her work, when she heard someone walk in her office.

"Hello, Hermione."

She looked up when she heard a familiar voice. It was Michael. She smiled, because he was smiling. "Hi, Michael." He shocked her by walking around the desk, taking her hand, and giving it a light kiss. She couldn't help but maintain her smile, as he leaned against her desk and continued to hold her hand. See, why couldn't Draco be like this?

He said, "I know I said I would call or floo you later, to arrange another date, but I couldn't wait for that. I had to come in person."

She looked at their clasped hands. She didn't want to use Michael and string him along when she was clearly in love with Draco, even though Draco's feelings were less clear. If Michael asked her out again, she would politely say no. After all, she couldn't accuse men of crimes if she was clearly capable of committing them, too.

She stood up and carefully took her hand from his. He didn't seem offended yet. He said, "Did you have a nice time Friday night?"

She did, at least the part spent with him was nice. She said, "Yes, I really did."

"Would you like to go out again?" he asked.

She said, "Michael, I feel I should be honest with you. I really did have a great time with you, but I'm sort of interested in someone else."

"Oh really? Who's my competition?" he asked lightly.

"Draco Malfoy," she answered honestly.

He continued to smile and said, "I think he just considers you a friend. He told me so on the phone. Anyway, I'm not talking marriage here; I'm talking a movie, or a show, or perhaps dinner. You can still be interested in Malfoy and go to dinner with me, can't you? Don't you need to eat just like the rest of us?"

She thought he was being such a dear. She said, "I suppose so."

"Is Wednesday night okay with you?" he asked, "I have to go out of town on business today, but I get back Wednesday. There's a nice Muggle restaurant near your flat. I will call and get a reservation, if that's agreeable. We'll just take things slowly, and see how they pan out, and if you decide you just want to be friends, we can be friends."

There was that word again, friends. She said, "I just wanted to be honest with you. I really do think I have feelings Draco Malfoy. I'm not sure what he feels for me, but I don't want to string you along."

"You can't string me along if I know up front what you feel, can you?" he asked back.

"I think that sounds reasonable," she said. "Fine, I would like to go out Wednesday night."

"I'll pick you up at your flat, okay? Seven?" he asked. He had the nicest smile, and he really was handsome. She felt shallow thinking that, but it was the truth. She only felt sincerity in his words. He wasn't playing games, or being deceitful in any way.

"Seven." It was a date. He leaned over, kissed her cheek and with a wave of his hand, he left her office.

She wouldn't string him along, or use him as a pawn. She would be honest with Draco as well. She would tell him that she was going out with Michael, but as a friend. She really did want to give Draco a chance to redeem himself in the light of day, and while he was cold stone sober.

Around noon, she stopped working, and was waiting for Draco so they could go to lunch, when he ran into her office. At first, he scared her, the way he rushed in and slammed her door shut.

"Granger, hide me!" he said.

"Hello to you, too, Draco Malfoy," she said with a grin. "Are you drunk again this morning? Because if you are, we'll forego lunch."

"I'm not drunk!" he said with a funny look on his face. "But I am in trouble. Stupid Kristen's stupid brother is getting married this weekend, and I promised to be her date, but I forgot that promise, and I just saw her talking to Lavender out there! I told her I was going to Hong Kong for the week, and couldn't go with her, but I think she might have seen me as I crawled to your office."

Hermione laughed. "Why do men lie? Just tell her the truth!"

"Oh, Granger, you silly little thing, I can't tell her the truth, because she would probably hex my balls off. Now, are you going to hide me or not?"

"She surely won't come in here? Who is Kristen, anyway?" she asked.

"We don't have time for a discussion, just hide me," he said, "She's coming this way and she looks angry."

"Is that the red head from New Years?" she asked.

He pulled her chair out from her desk, and hid underneath, pulling her legs toward him so that her chair hid his body. He hissed, "Yes, that's her; don't let her know I'm here!"

Hermione felt flushed. He placed his cheek next to her outer thigh, and his arms wrapped around her legs. The woman came in her office and said, "Excuse me, but have you seen Draco Malfoy?"

"Who?" Hermione asked. Draco still held onto her legs as if he was a scared child.

The woman said slowly, "Draco Malfoy," dragging out each syllable as if Hermione was dense.

Hermione narrowed her gaze and said, "I haven't seen him."

"I thought I saw him come in here," she said.

"Well, do you see him now?" Hermione asked. Draco was stroking her leg with one hand. She couldn't breath.

"Apparently I don't, or I wouldn't ask you if he was here," the woman said with sarcasm.

Hermione didn't like this woman. "You may leave now, unless you want to search my office first. Who knows, maybe I'm hiding him under my desk." Draco pinched her.

"Fine, I will leave. You're that little Mudblood who lives in that flat at his house, right?" the redhead asked.

"Yes, and you're the little red-headed slut from New Years," Hermione said. Normally, she would not even think about using that word aloud, especially not to the woman's face, but this one was getting on her last nerve.

The women huffed and said, "Fine, if you see that bastard, tell him that I found another date to the wedding! I hope he has to show up alone!" The stupid bimbo left Hermione's office and slammed the door shut for good measure.

Hermione kicked Draco under the desk for her own good measure, before pushing her chair away and standing up. "Thanks for bringing trouble into my office, Draco Malfoy!"

He stood up laughing. "You were good. I'm going to get you to solve all my problems from now on, okay? I can't believe she called you that word."

"You've called me that word all my life," she said.

He brushed off his slacks and said, "My defense is that I was young and stupid. I'm not anymore."

"That's true, you aren't young anymore, just stupid," she said, grinning.

"HA!" he said, leaning toward her. "So, I believe we are to go to lunch, so we can discuss our current situation."

"About that," she began.

"No, no, no, you can't worm your way out of things. We have a lot to discuss," he said. He had the article in his pocket, and he wanted to slip it on her desk somehow. He said, "Go to the outer office and make sure Kristen is gone before we leave."

She rolled her eyes, but went to the outer office. He slipped the article on her desk. She walked back in the office, and he walked right up to her and put his arms around her waist. She leaned away the best she could.

"You are a bit close, Malfoy."

"I told you not to call me that, it sounds brash and harsh. I want you to call me nice names, like sweetheart, lover boy, or Draco Malfoy," he said. He leaned in, arms still around her waist, and said, "My, you smell good today."

"This isn't helping matters," she said. "I feel like you're rushing things, and we haven't even talked yet."

"Fine, but I need to warn you that I have a new policy. I'm going to try always to be honest with you. I'm going to say what I think, and feel what I feel and not care about the rest. It will be hard, since I lie so often and so well," he explained, "but I honestly want to hold you in my arms right now, so that's what I'm doing. I also want extra points because I haven't had a lick to drink today."

"Good to know," she said. She placed her hands on his chest. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"Let me hold you a bit longer," he said.

She felt so weak in the knees that she thought she might pass out. She said, "Michael was here this morning."

He frowned and let her go. He sat on the couch and said, "What did the stupid prat want?"

"He's not a stupid prat, and you know it. He's a very nice man and we're going out to dinner Wednesday, but let me be honest, I told him that I thought we should just be friends, because I was interested in someone else," she said. She walked over to the couch. He pulled on her hand and forced her to sit next to him.

He examined her hand, holding it in his left one, and drawing little circles and squiggles on her palm with his right. She sighed audibly, and relaxed against the sofa. My, but that felt good. He smiled again and said, "who's the lucky gent that you find holds your interest?'

"You, you stupid git," she said.

"That's nice to know. Are we going to discuss things before lunch?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said seriously. "I think we both know where we stand, so do we need to discuss things?"

"I think so," he said seriously.

"Fine," she said. She took her hand from his and said, "Frankly, I want to take things slow and see if we should even bother pursuing being more than friends. It might not be a good idea in the long run, that is, if you want to do so." She knew that she seemed unsure of herself, but she had waited so long for this, that she wanted to be sure it was real, and that his feelings were genuine.

He took her hand again and said, "Listen, why don't we go out on a date or something? A real date and see what develops? See what happens? I've discovered that I do still want to be your friend," as soon as he said that, she took her hand from his. He reached over and grabbed it again, and added, "Let me finish, won't you? I want to be your friend, but I want to try for more, too."

"Why?" she asked.

He leaned over, his face so close she could count his eyelashes if she wanted to, and he said, "Because, I like you, so very much."

"I'm still going to dinner on Wednesday with Michael," she said.

"Fine, our date will be Thursday. I will make Michael's date pale in comparison. By the way, you're going to be my date on Saturday for Kristen's brother's wedding, too."

"Oh really?" she asked.

He leaned forward again, in a familiar fashion, and said, "Really." He let go of her hand, and put his thumb and forefinger on her chin. He was going to kiss her, but he didn't want to move too fast, because of his new honesty kick, he really wasn't sure he wanted to be more than friends; so instead, he moved his thumb up to her lips. He moved it back and forth against her lips, until she parted them slightly. Then, he kissed her cheek lightly. Unlike the light kiss to the cheek by Michael, Hermione felt this one in her bones. She wanted to melt into the couch. He stood up, grabbed her hands, and said, "Lunch is waiting for us, Hermione! Shall we?"

"Just a second," she said. He sighed. He didn't want to wait a second. Things seemed to be going good and he didn't want to lose momentum. She stood up and said, "We need to set some ground rules. I think we need to take things slow, and see if something really extends between us besides friendship. I would also like to date Michael a bit, see if what I feel for you is real, or just a crush."

"How will dating Michael make you see if what you feel for me is real? That's nonsense. Tell me the logic in that, Miss Granger!" he spat.

"Draco, don't you see, I've had this major crush on you, but I've felt so out of sorts, and uncomfortable about it, because you kept claiming we should be friends at every turn, and to tell you the truth, you have me half convinced," she said truthfully. "I mean, I have no real reason to think that I feel anything besides friendship for you. My crush was just that, a crush, and it wasn't based on anything real and substantial, because I started feeling this way before I even got to know you very well."

"You say I kept convincing you that we were just friends, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Then shall I also be granted the chance to convince you otherwise?" he asked.

"Sure," she said.

"Fine, that's all I want, because, hell, Granger, I'm as confused as you are. I want to be sure that having a relationship with you is right, and worth losing you as a friend. I want to make sure that the attraction I felt for you the other night wasn't just some drunken rampage. For that reason, you go on your stupid little date with Corner, and then go on your fantastic date with me. We'll see what happens after that, agreed?" He smiled at her.

"That sounds, reasonable, and somewhat rehearsed," she said with a smile.

She walked over to her desk and he said, "What are you doing?" He didn't want her to see his article until they left for lunch. After all, her article wasn't even published yet, so how could the mystery writer have already issued a response? Damn, he hadn't thought of that.

"I have to get my purse in my desk drawer," she said.

"I'll get it for you," he said. He walked over to her desk, and opened up two drawers until he found it. Then, when she turned to the door, he pocketed his article. He would have to get it to her another way. He handed the purse to her and said, "Let's go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was laughing so hard that she was beginning to hyperventilate. She was sure everyone at the restaurant was watching her. She said, "That must have been so embarrassing! And you didn't know they were twins?"

"No, not until I was banging the one and the other one walked in," he said. She dropped her head to the table and continued to laugh. He loved it when she laughed. Moments like this were why he was cautious about giving up her friendship. He had never had this much fun with a woman that he was dating. Then again, there was the whole 'cake thing'. Why couldn't he have his cake and eat it, too? Why couldn't he date Hermione Granger, and still consider her a friend? Why couldn't they have sex and then a good laugh? Well, maybe not in that order, but weirder things had happened.

He looked at his watch and said, "Goodness, Granger, I have a business meeting in ten minutes."

She took a deep breath and said, "I had a nice lunch. I thought it would be awkward, because I thought that we were going to have to iron out all our problems, but since we ironed them out before hand, it was the complete opposite. It was enjoyable. Thanks, Draco."

She stood up and he threw a bunch of money on the table. He said, "Just a preview of our date on Thursday."

She almost squealed in delight. She had a date with Draco Malfoy. Would wonders never cease? He took her hand and led her outside. He said, "I have to go this direction, and you have to go that direction. I'll see you at home later, okay?"

Home. He would see her at 'home' later. How odd that sounded. She said, "Maybe I could cook something."

"Ah, a pre-date, I like that." He smiled.

"No, you said this was a pre-date. It would just be dinner. Nothing fancy, just friends at first, right?" she said.

"Then, does that mean that I can't kiss you goodbye?" he asked.

She felt all giddy inside. He wanted to kiss her goodbye, and he wasn't even drunk! She looked down and shrugged.

"My, you're so articulate," he laughed. He leaned closer to her, put his hand on the back of her neck under her hair, and pressed his lips gently to hers; letting them linger a bit before he moved them ever so slightly. She felt a jolt from her lips to her midsection. She moved her head slightly the other way and he pressed a bit harder, and his other hand came up to her face. She grasped his shoulders. He moved his lips from hers, but kept her in his embrace. He looked at her, and she was smiling. He kissed her forehead, and then placed his forehead next to hers.

He said, "Wow, that was a nice kiss, do you concur?"

"I concur," she said. She suddenly put her arms around him tightly, and hugged him so hard he thought she would break a rib. He hugged her back.

"Don't go falling in love with Corner before we have our proper date, you hear me? Give me a fair chance," he said, pulling away from her. He took one of her hands in his. He started to walk away, but he still had her hand. Finally, their arms were stretched as far as they could go.

He had to let go of her. He said, "I'll see you, Hermione."

"Bye, Draco Malfoy." She turned to leave, but turned back to watch him jog down the street. She didn't care what he said and she didn't care what she proclaimed to him; she knew they were going to be more than just 'friends'. By golly, that was the best simple kiss that she had ever experienced. He was definitely going to be her husband someday. Yes in deed.

_Coming up next chapter:_

"_I came to your rescue," she said, her hands still over her eyes._

"_Why did you do that?" he asked, appalled. _

_She made a slit in her fingers to peek at him and said, "I thought you were yelling help!" She laughed. _

"_Well, now you know the difference between someone yelling 'hell' and 'help'!" He looked at the water all over the floor, and then at her smile, and he said, "Stop smiling like an idiot and help me clean this up!" He took one-step toward her, slipped in the water, and landed on his back. In the water. Totally embarrassed, and totally naked! _

_She looked down at him and said, "Do you want help now?"_


	11. 11 Theory of Relativity

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 11 – Theory of Relativity:**

Sir Isaac Newton, the father of modern physics, came up with three basic rules of physics, and the third rule, also known as the 'law of physics', states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. That was straightforward stuff. It made a lot of sense. In addition, the point was that even if people wanted to disprove this basic law of physics, the truth remained that they cannot. After all, it's a law, for that very reason.

To be precise, whenever a particle (let's call this one Hermione), exerts force on another particle (we'll call the second one Draco), then the second one, Draco, will simultaneously exerts force on Hermione with the same magnitude, but in the opposite direction.

To put it simply: "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction."

Which translates to this: Hermione Granger likes Draco Malfoy and he in return likes her back. Now we just have to wait and see what happens next.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After her glorious lunch and delicious kiss with Draco (or was that delicious lunch and glorious kiss, either way, both were apropos), she went back to the paper. She received an article from her mystery writer, which was in response to her story that was in today's paper. He was quick.

It was a touching answer, telling her not to give up on the opposite sex, for they couldn't help that they were men. She decided the writer was right, and she wouldn't give up on Draco Malfoy.

On her way home, she decided to stop at a Muggle grocery store to get something to cook for dinner. She wanted this to be more than a 'pre date'. She wanted this to be a REAL date. On the way inside, she wasn't watching where she was going, and she tripped and fell. This act on its own was not highly embarrassing, but because of the third law of physics, her falling was an action, so there had to be an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, the reaction was that approximately 2.5 people laughed at her. The half a person was a child. Finally, a man helped her to stand. She had a scrape on her knee, a tear in her stockings, and only a shred of dignity left.

She got two bags of groceries to fix some dinner for her and for Draco for their pre-date. On her way in the house one of the bags ripped, and all the groceries rolled down the steps and out to the sidewalk. She set the other bag down to get the groceries, and finally made her way inside.

She apparated to her flat, figuring that was the safest route. Once upstairs, she placed the groceries in the kitchen, and decided to take a shower so she could look fresh and pretty for what she was referring to as their first date. She ran to the bathroom, turned on the spigot in the tub so she could take a nice hot shower, placed her towel and washcloth on the side of the tub, and peeled off her clothes. She pulled the shower curtain, so Iggy wouldn't be tempted to play in the water. He was unusual like that. He was a cat that liked water. She placed a terrycloth robe on and decided to start her dinner before her shower.

Iggy walked in the kitchen, rolled to his side, because he was just too fat to roll to his back, and offered her his stomach, the sincerest form of love from a cat to a human. She smiled, rubbed his fat tummy with her bare foot, and opened a can of tuna and egg for him. She placed his food on a glass dish (it made him feel special), and scratched his ears. She forgot about the running water in the shower. She was also not at all aware of the fact that in her attempt to keep Iggy from jumping in the running water by shutting the curtain, she had knocked her washcloth and towel in the tub, where they proceeded to plug up the drain.

She put on the roast, and surrounded it with carrots and potatoes, (with the help of magic, after all, she was a witch), when inspiration hit. She hurried to put her food in the oven because she knew what she was going to write about for her next article! Why not write about the three basic laws of physics, and equate them to romance? Perfect! While her dinner was in the oven, she ran to the dining room, got out a clean piece of parchment and a quill, and started to write.

Iggy plopped down at her feet. She looked under the table as he was biting the tops of her feet and scooted him away. Suddenly, she remembered that she was about to take a shower and she had kept the water running. She looked at the clock on the wall. Goodness, she had been writing for almost an hour, and wasn't even aware.

She went past the kitchen, to the bathroom, and was just about to open the door to turn off the water, when she heard it. She heard Draco Malfoy utter one word, "HELP!" Apparently, a person could hear clearly from one apartment to the next from the grate 'outside' the bathroom, too! If she had just taken one more step into the bathroom, she would have known why he was yelling.

She lowered herself to the floor and put her ear next to the grate to listen closer. She knew it was wrong, because she had been on the receiving end of this very thing, but she didn't want to pull 'a Draco', and misinterpret what she heard. She wanted to be one hundred and ten percent sure that she really heard the word 'help' before she flew off the handle and to his rescue, hence the need to listen at the grate.

She listened closer and heard it again. This time he said, "Bloody, help!"

She didn't think that made much sense. What did 'bloody help' mean? It didn't matter, for she stood up and was about to go down to investigate, when she distinctly heard him say, "Damn it all to help!"

That made even less sense, but she didn't even take time to consider things. She ran for her wand, and in only her robe, and disapparated to the second floor. She tried the door on the second floor, and it was locked, but just with a good old-fashioned lock. She blasted the door open with magic and ran in his bedroom.

She walked carefully through his room to what was the hallway, down the long narrow hall to a room that had to be under her bathroom, so she figured it was his bathroom. She pressed her ear to the door. She heard him say, "Fuck!"

Now she was slightly confused. Did he need help or not? She leaned closer once more and she heard, "Stupid Granger!"

That was uncalled for, she must say. She frowned and started to leave when he yelled, "HERMIONE!" and then she heard him distinctly bang on his ceiling.

She opened the door quickly. He was standing in the middle of his bathroom, water falling on his head as if it were raining in the room, water all around his feet, water coming from the ceiling, and here was the kicker: he was completely naked.

She stood there, immobilized, her mouth open, her eyes opened wider and her hands covering her mouth. She started to laugh as he stood there, as shocked as she, and he asked, "What's so funny?"

"You're naked!" she said. She shut her eyes.

"That usually doesn't make women laugh, but for your information, I usually take showers naked, and I was about to take a naked shower when I came into my bathroom, and saw that it's apparently raining. Do you know why it's raining in my bathroom, Granger?" he asked with condescension.

She opened her eyes, and gasped. "Oh, Draco! I left my shower on for over an hour! I just remembered it, and I was about to turn the water off again, when I heard you yell for help." She looked at his face, then at his naked body, laughed again, and shut her eyes. She said, "Put some clothes on!"

"No, this is my bloody bathroom! Why are you down here, anyway? What do you mean I yelled for help?"

"I thought I heard you yell for help, which is why I came down here. I came to your rescue," she said, her hands still over her eyes.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, appalled.

She made a slit in her fingers to peek at him and repeated, "I thought you were yelling help!" She laughed.

"Well, now you know the difference between someone yelling 'hell' and 'help'!" He looked at the water all over the floor, and then at her smile, and he said, "Stop smiling like an idiot and help me clean this up!" He took one-step toward her, slipped in the water, and landed on his back. In the water. Totally embarrassed, and totally naked!

She looked down at him and said, "Do you want help now?"

He merely glared at her.

She couldn't stop laughing. She threw a towel that was hanging from a rod over his 'flagpole' and then she said, "Is that helpful?"

He stayed on the bathroom floor, embarrassed.

She apparated upstairs and walked in her bathroom, where the water was flowing over the side of her tub, and the floor was flooded. She smiled again, turned off the water, cleaned up her mess with her wand, and then ran back downstairs.

She ran to his bathroom, where he was still on his back in the water. The towel was still over his lower half and his arms were behind his head, as if he didn't have a care in the world. She looked down and said, "I am so sorry."

"No, you are so stupid," he said, pouting. He folded his arms over his chest.

"Yes, I heard you say so earlier," she just remembered. "That's not very nice you know, to call me names when I'm not around to defend myself. Why are you still on the floor? Are you hurt?"

"Does my pride count?" he asked.

"Oh, Draco Malfoy, I've done so many more embarrassing things than this and half of them today," she said. She kneeled beside him and reached out to touch him, but pulled back. She said, "I fell today, inside a grocery store, and people actually laughed at me."

"Were you naked?" he said from his place on the ground.

She giggled. "No, but I think a man might have seen my knickers, because he ran over all excited to help me up. In addition, I would like to point out that you not only saw me naked, but you carried me to my room and threw me on the bed that way, and then had the gall to say it wasn't a big deal. I would never say that to you. It is a big deal."

"If you want to pick me up and throw me on the bed, you have my permission." He smiled from his place on the floor and added, "You think my little guy is a big deal?"

She couldn't help but look down for a moment, even though the towel still covered him, and then she looked back at him and said, "I meant I would never trivialized the fact that I saw you naked."

"I would hope not. I would hope seeing me naked would be a very important occasional for you. One thing is certain, we're even now," he reasoned. He really didn't think they were, because she was right, he held her naked body next to him and though he didn't appreciate it at the time, on second thought he appreciated if very much. He really did. "Come here," he said. She was already kneeling by him, so where did he want her to come? She leaned over, and he grabbed her arm and said, "Are you naked under that robe?"

She hit his chest and stood up quickly. She offered her hand to help him to stand.

He said, "Well, come here again."

She stood right by his chest, leaned down once more, and offered her hand again. He hit her hand away and said, "I don't want your hand. I wanted you go come closer so I could look up your robe."

"You idiot," she said, backing away, and kicking him lightly in the ribs. He sat up, towel still draped across his middle and laughed.

"How could you forget you turned the shower on, anyway?"

"I turned on the water, and while it was getting hot I decided to feed Iggy, and then I got an idea for an article. I mean, I had to edit an article, and I lost track of time," she said. She almost blew it there. He stood up, and she turned her head.

He put the towel around his waist and said, "Help me clean this up."

She took her wand and began to siphon the water from the floor, all the while giving him sideways glances. He had such a nice body. She had never noticed before. She knew he was tall and slender, but he had well defined muscles, a chest to rival Michelangelo's David, and very nice legs. He wasn't very hairy either. She didn't like hairy men. He turned to look at her once, and caught her staring. She looked away quickly, but he smiled.

"So, you fed your cat, and then you wrote, I mean, edited an article, and then you heard me yell for help, right?" he asked as they finished cleaning up.

"That's right, well, I also started…oh no!" She just realized that she had started dinner a long time ago.

"You started what?"

"OH NO!" she yelled again.

"WHAT?" he asked alarmed.

"NO, NO, NO!" She ran from his bathroom, to the hall, forgetting that she could apparate, and went to her kitchen, where black smoke was coming from the oven. He was right behind her.

Every reaction has an opposite and equal reaction. Those were the laws of relativity, and the truth. She forgot her shower, and it rained all over Draco. She forgot her dinner, and the damn thing burned. She also forgot a potholder, and when she went to open the oven door, she burned her hand, very badly. She cried out in pain. He took his wand, dispersed the smoke, and vanquished the burning roast and potatoes all before he realized that she was cradling her burnt hand.

"If it isn't me getting hurt, it's you," he said. He pulled her to the sink, and as she did Friday night for him, he turned on the water and placed her already blistered hand under the cold running water. She stifled a cry, as he hushed, "Sh, it's okay to cry. I know a burn hurts." He turned off the water and placed his wand on her burnt, red skin. He shut his eyes for some reason when he uttered a spell she had never heard before, and soon, the pain and blistering were all gone.

Another cry hitched in her throat, as he put her hand up to his mouth, kissed it gently, and said, "I kissed it and now it's all better."

What was he doing to her?

He reached up and wiped a tear from her eye. "I ruined your bathroom and our dinner," she said. He still had her hand. He was still in only a towel. He sat her down on a chair at the table and sat beside her.

"Nothing's ruined. I'll order us some food, so don't worry, and the bathroom will be right as rain," he said. He still had her hand!

"It looked like it was raining when I walked in there," she said. She had to smile again. Oh, he still had her hand. She withdrew it from his hands.

"Let me see your hand again," he said. She placed it in front of her face, and turned it toward him. "No, give it here."

She placed it on the table. He shook his head and put her hand between his hands. He turned it around in his hands, and then began to examine each finger. She was mildly aroused. "You have nice hands," he said.

"Hands are my favourite part of a male's anatomy," she found herself saying.

He smirked at her and said, "Really, why?"

She brought her other hand up to their clasped hands, and then removed his left hand from the pile to examine the right one. He placed the abandoned hand flat on the top of the table.

Hermione turned his right hand around in hers and said, "I like a strong hand, with well defined veins and tendons. I like large knuckles, but not large fingers. I like long, straight fingers, like these, and short nails, which are clean. I like a hand that is large enough to capture both of mine." She looked up at him, but couldn't read his expression. He looked entranced, but moody. She let go of his hand and put both of hers on her lap.

He said one word, "Capture?" She couldn't look back at him. He asked, "Did you mean to say capture or hold?" She still couldn't look at him. "Because they mean very different things. Hold would mean, holding your hand during a walk, while watching telly, you know, sweet and sentimental. Capture would mean, grabbing them and placing them over your head during sex or something."

She suddenly found the fake grain of her Formica tabletop very interesting, too. When she didn't clarify, he reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. She looked at his hand first, and then followed the line of his hand up to his face. He said, "Do you want to know my favourite part of a woman's anatomy?"

"I shudder to think," she said, trying to joke, although inside she was quaking.

He moved his hand from her shoulder, to the opening of her robe. She found herself sitting back in the chair, as he leaned forward. He placed his hand on the front of her neck, his index finger touching her pulse. "I love a woman's neck. The long column that leads from the jaw to the shoulder is especially appealing. I love to move my mouth over this long column." His fingertips were moving up and down her neck. She shut her eyes.

He said, "I wasn't lying the other night when I said I loved your, I mean, I love a woman's collarbone, either." His hand slipped inside the opening of her robe, and rubbed her collarbone and then came to rest on her bare shoulder under her robe. She was painfully aware that her robe was opened more than it should be. She looked down and saw cleavage, so she knew he could see it also. Her pulse quickened. What was his reaction that was equal to her rapid pulse?

He stood up, his hand still in the opening of her robe. He stood behind her, leaned down, and moved her hair to the side to kiss her neck. She shut her eyes and moved her head to grant him more access. His lips glided from right under her ear to her shoulder, opening her robe even more. Her hands went up to the collar of her robe, to clench it closed, when he 'captured' both of her hands in his right hand, his left one still on her neck.

"Look, one of my hands can capture both of yours." She looked up at him. He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.

He was going to do more, but once again, he had to remind himself that he WOULD not, COULD not, do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Oh, he now knew that he definitely wanted more, but he wanted to remain friends, no matter what occurred, which meant he couldn't rush things. There was no need, anyway. She wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't anxious to get rid of her. He could take his time.

He let go of her and took a deep breath. He looked down at the 'tented' towel and decided that he should go finish his shower, a cold one at that. She moved to the side of the chair, and looked up at him.

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He said, "Let's get a shower."

She stood up so quickly she knocked over her chair. "Get a shower? Together?"

He laughed. "Let's get our separate showers, you in your bathroom, and me in mine." He made a mental note that he really must put up that silencing charm.

* * *

_Coming up in the next chapter:_

"_This is almost a scene from a Muggle movie," she said._

"_Oh, really?" he asked, amused._

"_It's a total girl's movie, and when I was younger, it was one of my favourites," she said, facing him._

_He reached over and touched her face, his finger skimming down her jaw to her chin. He said, "Please tell me they kiss in this movie."_

"_They do, at the very end, but not until then," she said, smiling._

"_Is this like the end?" he asked_.


	12. 12 If at First you Don't Succeed, Quit

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 12 – If at First You Don't Succeed Quit:**

There's a famous quote, often overused, that went, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, again." Hermione always liked that quote and lived her life by that very motto. She was not a quitter. She never backed down in the face of adversity. She would keep after Malfoy until she made him marry her someday, hence her motto 'try, try, again.'

She wanted to write another article about perseverance in the face of adversity! Never give up and never surrender! If at first you don't succeed and all that jazz. She never gave up on Draco, not really, and now he just might be hers.

Instead of writing yet another article right now, tonight, after all, the 'laws of physics' one caused her enough problems, she was instead sitting on her dining room table, (yes on the table), still in her robe. Draco was also sitting on the table still in his towel. Thank goodness it was a large towel. How they got there was quite a story.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I ruined our dinner," she said again from her kitchen while Draco held her now healed hand, after he suggested they shower.

"It would appear so, but I told you, I'll take care of everything," he assured her.

"I'm sorry I messed things up," she said. She meant more than just dinner.

He gave her a funny look and said, "I'm not sure Hermione Granger could 'mess up' if she tried. I told you, I would take care of dinner. Now, let's shower."

"Showers?" she asked, putting the 'S' on the end of the word to make it plural. He surely didn't mean they should shower together.

"Weren't we both about to shower before all of this happened?" he asked, still holding her hand. He had the most endearing lopsided grin she had ever seen. With a look that she could only describe as 'predatory', he leaned toward her and said, "Don't you want to shower?" His tone was somewhat seductive, and she suddenly wanted to melt in a puddle at his feet, but he would probably fall in the water and his towel would come off, so she would melt later.

"Sure, I want to shower," she said. She thought she sounded like an idiot. She took her hand from his.

He took her hand again, placed it on his chest, and said, "Do you want to shower together?"

"Are you trying to make me uncomfortable?" she asked.

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"Can you answer my question without a question?" she asked.

He was silent for a moment and said, "No. Now, do you want to shower together?"

She reached up and put her hand on his bare shoulder. She knew he was joking, but still, she was befuddled about what was happening. She hadn't seen this side of him. They hadn't even gone out on a real date yet, but still, the sexual undercurrent that was floating between them was so electric that she felt it in every nerve ending of her body. She WAS suddenly nervous. She WAS suddenly a bit afraid. She was even a bit guarded and doubtful, wondering if this was all real.

"I'm not ready to sleep with you before we've even dated. I know that you know how I feel, but that isn't about to happen yet," she said plainly.

"I said shower, I don't know what's on your dirty little mind," he said. He looked so serious when he said it that she became even more perplexed.

"Nothing's on my mind," she said.

"Really? Are you sure that you're really Hermione Granger? I'm sure something is always on Hermione Granger's mind and at the moment, I think sex is on your mind," he said. "I thought you wanted to marry me someday? Do you mean we'll have a sexless marriage?"

She pushed him away from her. "Please don't make fun of me." He put his hand up to her hair and pulled on a long curl, and then smoothed his hand down her arm.

"Lighten up, Granger. I'm joking about all of it," he said. "You go get squeaky clean, in your own shower, and I will attempt to get at least my body clean in mine, because my mind is a lost cause, for it will always be dirty, and I'll bring dinner up here, okay?" He sauntered out of her flat down to his own, just as confused as she was.

His thoughts were jumbled as he showered. He had just had a conversation with Mike and Lavender about her Sunday afternoon. He told them about his and Hermione's weird encounter on Friday night and how they both seemed eager, but hesitant, for a relationship.

Lavender warned Draco that Hermione was not to be toyed with, and if he wanted just to stay friends with her, he shouldn't string her along.

When Lavender went to the bathroom, Mike gave him some different advice. He leaned over and said, "I like Hermione almost as much as I like you, but believe me, I'll kill you if you hurt her."

He didn't doubt the man's words. Then, when Mike went to the bathroom, Lavender told Draco to be sure of what he wanted and to act slowly. She said that although Hermione spouted off things flippantly like, "I want to marry him someday", she was not a flighty person, given to whimsical statements that meant nothing. She deserved the best. She suggested that he wine and dine her. She told him about Hermione's dream date and suggested he start with that. It was something from a Muggle movie. After Lavender explained it all to Draco, Mike came back to the living room and said one more thing on the matter. "You had better apologize to her on Monday, too, and tell her that you weren't just drunk or confused on Friday night, because neither of those excuses will fly with her."

Therefore, he was afraid to face her earlier that day. That was why he started the day on a lighter note. He asked Kristen, who he did occasionally shag, but for whom he held no real attachment, if she would help him get back in Hermione's good graces. He came up with the whole, "Kristen is going to kill me routine," so he could hide in Hermione's office. He wanted Kristen to make her angry, so that they could have a common enemy and instead of Draco being the bad guy, Kristen could be the bad guy, or in her case, girl. It wasn't the most truthful thing he had ever done, but it was the best solution he could come up with on short notice.

He wanted to gauge Hermione's reaction and start things on a lighter note so that he wouldn't have to apologize and he wouldn't have to say that he wasn't just drunk and confused on Friday night. Damn it, he was drunk and confused, but he didn't want to lie to Hermione, at least not outright. Instead, he would make her laugh, hence the debacle with Kristen.

Now, for Lavender's suggestion of taking things slow…he was prepared for that, too. He would recreate Granger's perfect date and maybe he would see if what he felt was real. He knew Lavender and Mike were both right; Hermione's feelings for him were real and truthful. Now he had to make sure his were as well before he made a colossal mistake and threw away her friendship forever. He hadn't worked through all his feelings yet, so there was no need to rush things. She wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't dating anyone else, and she already loved him, so he had plenty of time to sort out his feelings. He would take it slowly as Lavender suggested.

He wanted to say so much to her, but didn't know how. He would have to continue writing his feelings in the articles and let them speak for him.

In the end they had both decided to shower (separately, darn it), and then he was going to come back with some food, so she kept her door slightly ajar. She turned on the water, and let the warmth of the water waft over her tired muscles and sore skin. She was elated in the thought that she was really finally having what she wanted. She was succeeding, not failing, and it felt glorious. To be truthful, Hermione was better at success than failure. She had more practice at it. She finished her shower, turned off the water, and tiptoed into the hallway. She put her robe back on and was heading toward her room, when she decided to check to make sure Draco wasn't back yet. She poked her head into the living room, saw the door was still ajar, and then turned on her heels to head to the bedroom.

She began to sing as she walked down the hall. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy, when skies are….AAAARRRGGGGGGHHH!!!!" Draco Malfoy was sitting on her bed, in only a towel, holding up a pair of her knickers and one of her bras.

"Is that how the song goes?" he asked. "When skies are aarrrgghh?" he mocked, making a strangled noise at the end of his sentence.

She clutched her robe around her tighter. "What in the world are you doing in here? I might have been naked! I thought you weren't back yet!"

"Why would you think that?" he asked as he twirled the knickers around his index finger. "And I have to admit, I was hoping you would be naked, so the score would be two to one."

She reached over, grabbed her knickers, and said, "Give me those!"

He put her bra up to his chest and said, "Does this really fit you, because it seems small. Did you borrow this from the Weasel?"

She reached for her bra as well, though he wouldn't relinquish it, and she said, "Out while I dress."

"Why?" he asked as he threw the bra on the floor. He decided to lie down on her bed, propping his head up on his hand.

"Get out," she said sternly.

"Fine, but see if I like you anymore," he said as he slid off her bed. "I'll go set up our food." He picked up the bra he had thrown on the floor and flung it at her, hitting her on the face. Then he laughed. He walked out of the room and tried to shut the door, but she stopped him.

"Did you shower?" she asked.

"Yes, why? Do I smell bad?" he asked.

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asked the obvious.

"Why aren't you?" he asked back. "I'm not dressed because I like this look. I happen to know I look bloody fab in just a towel. You were eyeing me quite a bit downstairs, when I was naked before, you know."

"Please, put clothes on," she said, her face turning all shades of scarlet as she remembered his naked condition from earlier.

He walked up to her and she backed into the wall. She still had the bra in her hand. He took the bra from her, threw it back on the floor, and asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," she said truthfully.

"Are you afraid of my naked body?" he asked softer. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled so clean, like soap and aftershave. Her hand came up and closed her robe tighter.

"I wouldn't say I was afraid. Uncomfortable, maybe," she admitted.

He pressed his body closer to hers. She looked up at the ceiling, and then back to him, and said, "Draco Malfoy, don't act like this if you don't mean it."

"I assure you," he said in a husky whisper, "I mean everything I feel right at this very moment." And he really did. He closed his eyes, and took a deep whiff. What did he smell? She closed her eyes, too. He said, "Raspberry vanilla, right?"

"Yes," she said, shocked he could make out the smell of her soap.

"Hmmm," he hummed. He placed his cheek next to hers and his hands beside her head on the wall. She placed her hands on his bare chest. He brought his face back level to hers and said, "Look under my towel."

"What?" she asked.

One of his hands flipped his towel open slightly. She was obligated to look, but since he was so close to her, she had to lean over to do so. He had black boxers on under the black towel. "See, you're relatively safe."

"Relatively," she repeated.

"So go put on that cute bra and the cute matching knickers and then your robe, and come back out and we shall eat. That way we'll both be safe," he said with a smile.

"Safe," she said.

"Is it your intention to repeat every word I say?" he asked. He pressed his chest into hers.

She seriously almost said the word, 'say', but she shook her head no instead.

He figured that was the end of that, so he said, "You smell really nice. I've always thought so. Come on, dinner's waiting." He pushed away from her, too soon in her opinion, and took her hand, leading her to the dining room. She halted before she walked in the door.

"I thought you said I should put on my underwear."

"You said you weren't afraid," he answered.

"We aren't sleeping together yet," she suddenly stated. She felt it needed repeating.

"Of course not, we're eating. Why would you assume otherwise?" he asked slyly.

She stood where she was and thought about things. He didn't seem confused any longer. This was definitely flirting and maybe a bit more. It gave her hope. She turned and ran back to her room, and put on the cute bra and knickers he picked out, might as well not let them go to waste, and then placed her white terrycloth robe back on her body. If he was going to wear a pair of black silk boxers and a black towel, she was going to wear her white terrycloth robe and cute underwear. She combed her hair and dried it quickly with magic. She chanted in her mind, "If at first you don't succeed," repeatedly. SHE WAS SUCCEEDING! When she came out of the bedroom, she called out for him. He didn't answer.

She looked in the dining room and he wasn't there. There were lit candles on the table and wine. However, there were no chairs around her table and no Draco Malfoy.

She walked back toward the kitchen. Where was he? She walked to the living room, which was another dead end. Did he leave? She turned around in a circle and quietly said, "Draco?"

She was ready to give up, so much for succeeding, when he popped back into her flat. She hit his arm and said, "You scared me."

"Yes, I know, I scare you. Are you ready for dinner?" he asked.

"Where are we eating?" she asked back.

He just smiled and took her arm and led her back into the dining room.

She just thought of something; why were there no chairs around the table? "Where are the chairs?" she asked.

"Who needs chairs?" he asked back.

"Where are we going to sit?" she inquired.

"On the table," he said. He adjusted the lights with a wave of his wand. Now, the only light was from all the candles he had placed around the room. He scooted on top of the table, and sat with his legs crossed. She was thankful for his boxers at that point.

She looked under the table, where Iggy laid, and said, "What if the table breaks."

"Have faith, it won't," he said. He had already put a strengthening charm on the table.

"Why are we sitting on the table?" she asked before she was even sitting on the table.

He rolled his eyes and said, "It will be romantic. Bloody hell, Granger, get your arse up on this fucking table."

"That's not romantic," she said with a smile.

"Get your lovely bum on the fucking table," he reiterated, trying to sound more romantic.

"Is this a date?" she asked.

"It isn't just dinner between friends, if that's what you want to hear," he stated.

"I thought our date was Thursday night," she began.

He gave her an exasperated look and grabbed her hand. She slid her bottom on the smooth surface and scooted across from him, crossing her legs like his, and adjusting her robe so she wasn't exposed anywhere.

"Where's all the food?"

He picked up his wand, which was next to him, and food appeared. There were strawberries, cheese and crackers, hors d'oeuvres and all sorts of finger foods, as well as the aforementioned wine.

"Don't get drunk tonight," she warned.

"Yes mother," he laughed.

She just noticed something else, the ambience. They were sitting on the table…gee; this was almost her perfect date, right from her favourite movie. All they needed was a birthday cake between them.

"This is almost a scene from a Muggle movie," she said.

"Oh, really?" he asked, amused.

"It's a total girl's movie and when I was younger, it was one of my favourites," she said, facing him.

He reached over and touched her face, his finger skimming down her jaw to her chin. He said, "Please tell me they kiss in this movie."

"They do, at the very end, but not until then," she said, smiling.

"Is this like the end?" he asked.

"Not yet, I hope," she answered.

They ate, relaxed, and had a very nice time. She told him about some of her worse dates. He couldn't believe she had such rotten luck with men.

She said, "One time, I went to the bathroom, and when I came back out to the table, my date was gone. I sat back down, all alone, at the table and I was so embarrassed. The waiter finally came up to me said, 'This guy does this at this very restaurant all the time. At least he paid the bill this time. I'm sorry,' and that was it. I got up with the little bit of dignity I had left and left the restaurant."

He couldn't imagine a bloke doing that to her, but then he realized that he had done that once or twice. Nevertheless, he would never do it to her. Never. He said, "You remain friends with most of your ex's though, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Ron and I are still best friends. I still correspond with Victor all the time, and when he's in England we always get together, and I'm the one that introduced Mike to Lavender. He dated me first," she said.

"I didn't know that," he said, taking a drink of wine.

"Sure, I knew he wasn't right for me, so I set them up," she explained, eating another piece of cheese.

"Because you already had your sights on me, huh?" he asked with a wiry smile.

"Sure, you keep thinking that," she remarked with a hint of sarcasm. He wasn't far off the mark. She had already started thinking about him. Mike and Draco were friends and it was through Mike that she had started to see him occasionally again.

"So, if this doesn't work with us, we would still be friends, right?" he asked, leaning close, taking the piece of chocolate from her fingers, and popping it in his mouth.

"We haven't even really started dating yet, and you already want to know what will happen when we break up?" she asked, a bit sad.

"I need reassurances too, Hermione," he said. "I have to be certain of a few things before I proceed."

"How very analytical of you," she retorted. She slid to the side of the table and placed her feet on the floor.

He followed. "Please, try to understand," he said. "I know I have budding feelings for you."

"Budding feelings?" she repeated.

"Yes, and I want to explore them too, but I want to go slow," he said.

"Go slow," she repeated.

"Are we back to repeating things?" he asked with irritation.

"Repeating things?" she asked back. She frowned.

"I just want to make sure this is real, and that it'll last. I want it to be worth it," he explained.

There was not one phrase or word in that sentence she wanted to repeat. She looked at the floor.

He wanted to gather her in his arms, but he wasn't sure that was the best idea, when he heard her say, "I feel defeated for the first time in my life."

"Why?" he asked.

"I just feel like I've failed at this, at everything concerning you. I'm so sure of my feelings and you're so unsure of yours," she explained.

"Wouldn't that be my failure, not yours?" he asked.

She shrugged. She felt so numb that she wasn't sure whose failure it was. Her heart was beating so weakly that she thought it might stop. She looked up at him and said, "Are we still going on our date on Thursday?"

"Of course. I go out of town tomorrow, but I'll be back on Thursday, and don't forget, we have the wedding to attend on Saturday." Hermione placed her hand on the table, and rubbed the smooth top back and forth. This was not the way the movie ended. The movie ended with a kiss up on the table, and the boy asking the girl if she finally got what she wanted, and her telling him that all she wanted was the boy. In her case, all she wanted was Draco.

This ending was SO very different. He was telling her that he was still unsure what he wanted, and she was sick and tired of it. He put his hand over hers, to stop it from moving back and forth. She looked up at him and said, "Goodnight."

"Just like that? Goodnight?" he asked. He didn't understand. He gave her the perfect date, per Lavender's suggestion. He was taking it slow, per Mike's suggestion. He was being honest with her, per her article. Why was she suddenly sad and overwhelmed?

"I think so," she said. "Thanks for dinner. It's late, and I have to work tomorrow. Lock the door on the way out, okay?" She started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. He pulled her to him roughly.

"Please, if you get like this when we aren't even dating yet, what will you be like if we do date and then break up?" he asked her.

"Why are you so certain we'll break up? Why are you so worried about it?" she asked cautiously. She was trying to keep her anger in check, because what she really wanted to do was slam her fist in his face. "I promise to be your friend for the rest of our lives, okay?" she found herself saying. She wanted to add, 'and never anything else'. She pulled her arm from his hand and she walked down the hall toward her bedroom.

He walked right behind her. She would have been a moron not to notice, and Hermione was many things, but a moron was never one of them. She turned back around and said, "Please, go now. I'll talk to you before our date."

He put his hand on her neck, drew her to him with his other hand on her back, and he held her next to his body. She kept her arms down at her sides. He said, "The movie ends with a kiss, right? Shouldn't our date end with one?" Before she could answer, he placed his mouth gently on hers. He left it there for only a second, lifted it off, looked at her again, and then placed his mouth back on hers. He slid his mouth effortlessly against hers, but she didn't even respond.

That didn't mean he didn't feel something. He knew he did, however, he would not let her rush him into anything. He continued to kiss her, moving his hand from her neck to her face, cupping it lightly. Even as he kissed her, his jaw clenched. She was not responding as she had earlier, so he stopped. He drew her tightly into an embrace and said in her ear, "Don't give up on me, Granger. Keep trying." He let her go, touched her cheek once more, although she wondered what the point was, and he smiled and walked down the hall and out of her flat.

Hermione wasn't giving up. No, she was just adopting a new motto. After the events of the evening unfolded, she decided her new motto was "If at first you don't succeed, quit, because you probably aren't going to get anywhere, anyway."

* * *

_Coming up in the next chapter:_

"_You seem distracted."_

"_I think I am, and that's not fair to you, is it?" she asked._

"_Who said life is fair? I only have one question, have you changed your mind about me, about us?"_

"_I guess I'm now as confused as you are," she said._

"_What if I said I was no longer confused," he asked._

"_What if I said it was too late," she said back._

"_One date with Corner and you think it is too late for us? You silly woman. It will never be too late."_


	13. 13 You Can't Get What You Want

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 13 – You Can't Always Get What You Want:**

In 1969, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote a song that Hermione Granger felt was the soundtrack to her life. It went: "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you find you get what you need." Hermione felt she rarely got what she wanted, but she often got what she needed.

That was her approach as she walked toward the theatre to meet Michael Corner for a concert for their second date. Michael wasn't what she wanted, but perhaps, she just might find that he was what she needed.

She hadn't heard from Draco since he was out of town, and in all truthfulness, she didn't want to hear from him. She was tired of his indecisiveness. He needed to figure out what he wanted before he lost what he needed. She was on a different path now. She wasn't waiting for him any longer. The ball was now in his court. She would see if he knew what to do with it.

Michael smiled and waved at her. She smiled back. She felt sad inside, but on the outside, for Michael's sake, she would be happy. She needed to be happy.

After the theatre, they grabbed some dinner at a Muggle diner. It was loud, somewhat dirty, and perfect in everyway. The food was great, the music loud, and Michael was on his game. He was bright, smiling, happy, jovial, and every other adjective for a perfect date. Well, perhaps not every one, for he wasn't Draco, but then again, Draco was a noun not an adjective.

After the date they apparated to the corner alley a block from her flat. She took a deep breath and said, "I can walk back from here."

"Not on your life, this looks like a shoddy neighborhood, very shady. I should walk you back," he said, making a joke at the expense of the very upscale neighborhood.

She nodded her consent and put her hand on his arm. He walked by her side and said, "Did you have a nice time, Hermione?"

"You know," she started, "I think I did, so thank you."

"Did you forget about your crush on Draco?" he asked.

She laughed and said, "Draco and I have a date tomorrow night."

"Ah, I see. I still have competition," he said.

She wanted to tell him that she doubted that, because for there to be competition, the two parties in question had to have a true rivalry, be equally strong, and they had to have the same goal in hopes of outperforming the other to win a central prize or conquest. Michael and Draco weren't competing with each other. There would never be any competition as far as she was concerned. Draco would always win, even if he didn't want to win. That thought made her sad.

"Earth to Hermione," Michael said as they reached her door. "You were daydreaming."

"Sorry, my mind does tend to wander," she said with a grin.

"May I see you again?" he asked.

She really didn't want to be one of those people who lead someone on, especially when she wasn't sure of her feelings. That would make her no better than Draco Malfoy. "Michael, I'm not sure that we'll ever be anything more than friends. Don't hate me for that, okay?"

"We all need friends don't we?" he asked.

That sounded like something Draco would have said, and that made her even sadder. She nodded and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Call me sometime and we can do lunch or something."

"Are you going to Alex O'Rourke's wedding?" Michael asked.

"I don't know a person by that name, so the answer would be no," she answered with a small laugh.

"Well, he's a friend of Mike's and Draco's, so I thought you might know him," Michael stated.

Hermione thought for a moment and said, "Does he have a sister named Kristen?"

"Yes, long legs, ginger hair, tall and beautiful," Michael said. Hermione gave him a funny look. He smiled and said, "Yes, Kristen is his sister."

"Then I think I am going to that wedding, because Malfoy asked me to go with him," she said.

"Really? Well then, you must save me a dance, for I'm invited to go as well and I don't have a date, so I'll just have to go with Mike and Lavender. Kristen told me about Draco's little ploy to make sure you weren't angry with him the other day, so I have to say that I'm surprised that you're going with him to the wedding after what they did."

"What little ploy? What are you going on about?" she asked.

"I guess on Monday morning Kristen was supposed to act like she was angry at him or something and she was to chase him into your office, and he asked her to call you mudblood and all. It was just a ploy, a trick if you will, because he thought you were angry with him about something else and he wanted you to forgive him without him having to pay a penance," Michael explained. "He thought if Kristen came into your office, acting like a bitch, it would give you a common enemy and you would forget you were angry with him."

Hermione felt crestfallen. Draco played her. Instead of apologizing for his drunken, confused, state, and admitting his true feelings, he played her, and for what true purpose? "Are you sure?" she asked.

"That's what Kristen told me," he said.

"You know what, Michael? I'll go with you and Mike and Lavender to the wedding if you want, so you won't be a third wheel, but just as friends, okay?" she stated. She didn't like being manipulated, and she really didn't see why Draco would go through such an elaborate ruse just to avoid talking about his feelings. Maybe she didn't know Draco as well as she thought she did.

"Great, well, I'll see you then," he said. He leaned over and kissed her mouth gently. She smiled up at him.

She went inside her house and up to her flat. She let herself in the door and called out to Iggy. She couldn't find him. She went to the kitchen, grabbed a box of treats, and started to shake the box. These specific treats always made him come running. She jiggled and shook the box until her wrist almost came off, walking all around her flat, and she called his name until she was hoarse. She tried to locate him with her wand. Where was her cat?

She sat on her bed, worried, since her flat wasn't that big. Could he have gotten out of her door? Was he wandering around on one of the other floors? She went out her door, leaving it open, and went upstairs first. She had never been to Draco's offices. To her amazement, the door was not locked, by magic or other means. Maybe he didn't feel it was necessary, since only the two of them lived there. She searched the dark offices and then went back downstairs.

She was close to being panicked. She knew he was just a cat, but he was her cat, and he had never been outside before, and even if he did weigh the same as a small child, he was about as defenseless. Both doors on both floors of Draco's apartment were locked and shut tight. She went back to her flat, to look under her bed once more. That was his usual hiding place, and perhaps the first two times she had looked she overlooked him.

She lay down on the floor, and reached under. There was nothing there but dust. She got up on her hands and knees and called out an anguished cry, "IGGY!" That was when she saw it. The door to the upstairs patio, the one off her bedroom, the one she had never even been on because it was too cold, was opened. She had opened it this morning to look at the rain. She had forgotten to close it. She ran outside. Great, it was raining again. That meant he was not only lost, but out in the rain. She looked all around for him. He was not anywhere to be found. He was gone. Just like that, gone.

She sat on the patio and cried.

Draco had the Muggle cab let him off two blocks from his house. A fine mist was coming down, and it was a dark and a somewhat hazy night, but he liked this kind of weather. He needed to clear his head anyway. He wondered if Hermione was back from her date. It was after eleven, so she had to be. As he approached his house, he saw a blur of white fur by a rubbish bin. He bent down to look closer and said, "Iggy? Is that you?" He looked like a drenched rat.

How did Hermione's cat get outside? He would recognize that giant fur ball anywhere, even if the tag on the collar hadn't said "Iggy", which was another telltale sign. He wondered if that cat would let him touch him. He quickly grabbed the cat by the scruff and picked him up.

"Hermione must be beside herself with worry, Mister," Draco said. He was somewhat shocked that the cat didn't bite him or scratch his eyes out. Hermione always said that Iggy didn't like anyone but her. Well, obviously, either she was mistaken, or that cat had impeccable taste. Probably the latter.

He carried Iggy in the house and upstairs to her flat. Her door was opened, and he tossed Iggy into the comfortable chair by the couch, shut her door, and walked down her hallway. He called her name several times, but she didn't appear to be home. Why was her door open? Was that how the cat escaped?

He walked through the bedroom door and saw that the double doors leading to her patio opened. He walked over, stuck his head out the door and saw her on a bench, crying.

He rushed to her and before he could ask her what was wrong she threw her arms around him. "Draco! You have to help me find Iggy! He's wandered off and I can't find him! Please, will you help me search the neighbourhood?" She clutched his jacket collar. She looked so lost and forlorn, with her hair flattened by the rain.

"Come inside, Hermione," he said.

"NO! Help me find him, please! I left this door open and I don't even know if it is possible for him to get down from this height, but…" she stopped. "OH, Draco! What if he fell and hurt himself! I didn't even think of that!" She rushed to the side of the wrought iron railing and looked over the edge.

"Come back from the railing, Granger," he pleaded.

She gasped and pointed at something. "Is that him? I think that might be him!"

"He's inside. I did find him outside, but I brought him in just now," he said, spinning her to face him.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Was he sure? "Yes, I'm sure," he said, questioning her sanity at the moment. She threw her arms around him once more, and to his utter amazement and joy, she kissed him full on the lips. A firm, fleeting kiss, but a kiss all the same.

Hermione ran past him to her bedroom and sure enough, Iggy was on her bed, looking at her like she was a mad woman. She scooped him into her arms and cuddled him while he mewed. "Oh, Iggy!"

Draco came in and shut the door. He removed his wet jacket and placed it on a chair. He shook his hair to remove the excess water from the rain. He seemed suddenly invisible as Hermione took Iggy to the other room. She took off her coat, threw it on a kitchen chair, fed and petted the cat for a moment, then walked back to her bedroom to find Draco sitting on her bed. She sat down next to him and placed her head on his shoulder. He felt suddenly warm and dry on the inside, though he was still cold and wet on the outside.

"Thank you, Draco. That old cat means the world to me," she said. She turned her head slightly and kissed his cheek. "I know you probably thought I was bonkers."

"Yes, I did," Draco said with a laugh. He placed his arm around her. "Did you have a nice date with Corner tonight?"

She stood up and took her wand to dry them both before answering. She placed her wand back on the dresser, leaned against it, and said, "I think I did."

"You think?"

"Well, no, I did have a nice time. I told him that we should probably just stay friends. I didn't want to give him mixed feelings and have him be unsure where we stand. I know how that feels," she admitted.

He frowned slightly. "Do you mean I make you feel that way?" She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and fiddled with things on her dresser, moving a dish with earrings here, moving her brush there. He came up behind her and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked up and into the eyes of his reflection.

"You seem distracted," he said. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I think I am, and that's not fair to you, is it?" she asked.

"Who said life's fair? I only have one question, have you changed your mind about me, about us?"

"I guess I'm now as confused as you are," she said.

"What if I said I was no longer confused," he asked.

"What if I said it was too late," she said back.

"One date with Corner and you think it is too late for us? You silly woman. It'll never be too late."

"He invited me to go to the wedding with him," she said.

"Too bad, you're already going with me," he said with a serious look on his face. She couldn't help herself; she leaned against his hard body and shut her eyes.

"Did you plan some little thing with Kristen you want to tell me about?' she asked, eyes still closed.

His hand snaked around her middle. He was silently cursing Corner. He forgot that Kristen and he were good friends. She must have told Corner of his ruse and Corner told Hermione.

"I have nothing to confess," he decided to say.

"If you have nothing to confess, then I'm going to the wedding with Michael," she said, opening her eyes.

"Fine, go to the fucking wedding with Michael," he said with spite. "You're still going out with me tomorrow night."

She couldn't think of a response, and the truth was, she was more than a bit baffled suddenly. If this was the way Draco had been feeling she knew that she couldn't fault him, because now she felt the same way. She turned to face him and said, "It's very late, and I need to get some sleep for work tomorrow and I also have a date tomorrow night." She said it without emotion or reflection. She walked to her closet door, removed her jumper and hung it on the door, while placing her hand on the door jam to steady herself as she kicked off her shoes.

Draco watched it all in silence and he decided something, if she really thought it was suddenly too late, she was mistaken. He knew he wanted her now and he wanted to show her as much.

He didn't say anything. He stood up, walked over to the closet, and placed his hand on top of her hand that was on the woodwork around the door. He began to pry her fingers from the doorframe. He turned her around to face him, and pulled her so she was flushed up against him.

"Draco?" she questioned. His arms were now tight around her. She leaned back, away from his arms.

He kept his left arm around her waist, and moved his right hand to her neck. He placed it firmly on the back of her neck so she couldn't move. He brought his lips to hers. With their lips almost touching, but not kissing, he said, "I know what I want." Each word sent a jolt through her body.

Before he kissed her lips, he moved his mouth across her cheek and placed small, possessive kisses all across her face. His mouth went to her jaw, and then moved to her neck, where he whispered in her ear, "And I know what you want, even if you pretend otherwise." He sucked gently on her earlobe, and she felt an explosion in her stomach and tightness in her throat. She did want this. He brought his face back to hers, looked her right in the eye and said, "You want me as much as I want you," and his mouth landed on hers.

He took his time. He gently parted her lips, only a small bit, and then with equal parts force and suction, he began his expedition. He pressed harder even as his hands brought her body closer to his and he gently bit her bottom lip, pulled on it, his tongue swiping it, before his teeth let it go. He had both hands around her waist and his mouth left hers for the briefest moments so he could take a deep breath, before he moved his head to further his intentions.

His tongue circled her mouth and she moaned as his tongue plunged deeper, touching hers at last, and it was right and almost as if it was what he had been waiting for his whole life. Oh yes, he wanted this and so did she. Neither could deny it.

She brought her hands up to his face, pulling him closer, finally a willing participant in their little experiment. He moved her away from the closet door, picked her up, and placed her on the top of the dresser. He refused to let go of her mouth.

They continued a mutual kiss with her on the dresser, he in between her parted legs, until she pushed against his chest, moved her lips from his, and jumped down.

"No, I want you," he actually said. He pulled on her arm, refusing to let her walk away, and he pulled her closer to him, placed his lips back on hers, and walked backwards toward the bed. As soon as he felt the bed against the back of his legs, he let himself fall over with her still in his arms. He stopped kissing her when they fell. She had her full weight on top of him, but instead of looking at him, she rested her head on his chest. Her hand played with one of the buttons on his shirt and finally she looked up at him.

"You can't always get what you want," she finally said.

Without another word passing between them, she tried to remove herself from his strong embrace, but he was having none of that. He decided he could keep her a while longer if he moved her to her back. He turned them over and leaned over her. His hands went to 'capture' both of hers, over her head. He kept them in one hand and slipped his leg between hers. He knew she could feel his want on her hip. He placed his face against her neck and sighed.

"You can't tell me you suddenly don't want me," he said almost desperately.

"I don't know what to say," she said in a whisper.

"I don't either," he said. He released her hands, but stayed on top of her. She placed her thumb on his bottom lip, and rubbed it softly. He leaned down once more and kissed her again. She was breathing harder. He began to kiss her more frantically. He made a noise in the back of his throat, which alarmed her, because it sounded like a growl.

Hermione pushed him off her with all her might and he decided to let her, before things got out of hand, and she decided she hated him or something. He fell on his back, placed on arm over his eyes and said, "Too fast, I know. Sorry." He could barely find the words to form a coherent sentence.

Suddenly, he was in shock as he felt her roll over to place her body back on his. She put her hand on his chest, and her mouth to his, and kissed him with an untamed abandonment he didn't often feel from a woman. He was in shock, so he didn't know if he should contribute, or just enjoy her kisses. One hand went to the back of her head, to hold it in place, and the other went to her bum to cup it lightly.

Now she made a noise, and he made another one in return, mainly because her thigh brushed against his ever-hardening erection as she made to move her body between his legs. She stopped kissing him to unbutton his shirt. She moved it away from his chest, and started to kiss his chest. Her hands roamed his smooth chest, and her mouth kissed its way down his stomach, then back up. She kissed his neck, sucking hard on his pulse point.

He could no longer think straight let alone be a participant in this lunacy. He rolled her over again, so he could be in control. He liked being in control. His hand traveled down to her knee and brought her leg up slightly. He wanted to feel the soft skin of her thigh, her hip, and flat stomach, but she was still fully dressed. He kissed her neck and shoulders. He reached up further, to touch her breast through the thin shirt she wore. His hand moved lightly across her mounds, first one and then the other, and even through the fabric of her bra and shirt, he felt her want and need. She was wrong, he could always get want he wanted, and sometimes what he wanted was what he needed. His hand went back down to the hem of her shirt and she assisted him as they both pulled it over her head and down to the floor.

He took a moment to look at her as she was saturated in the dim light of the one single lamp on her bedside table. She was glorious. He placed his mouth next to the material of her bra, and rained kisses over the exposed parts of her breasts. He could not describe how he felt looking at Hermione Granger this way. He really couldn't.

He put his hand gently on her left breast. As he continued to kiss her mouth, he let his fingers slide under the lacy material and his finger found the hardened point. He rubbed his fingers back and forth, and her back arched slightly. He wanted to taste her breasts, but not until she was painstakingly aroused. He stopped kissing her for a moment so that he could watch her reaction as his hand traveled from her breasts to the top of her slacks, where it nimbly undid her clasp and zipper. She put her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her face, trying to read her reaction. Her head was angled slightly on the pillow, and she looked at him with a mixed look of want and confusion. Damn, he knew that look anywhere. He knew it because he had seen it in his own mirror. She was confused. Why was she confused?

"Am I a one night stand?" she asked.

"Never," he answered, his hand still resting on her lower abdomen, where he placed it after he unzipped her pants. His little finger was on top of the elastic of her knickers. He was so close.

He sat up slightly, finished removing his shirt, reached down and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, but kept them on his hips. He really wanted to finish what they started. He took his fingertips, ran his hand lightly up her covered leg, to her knee, to her thigh. He leaned back over her and kissed her mouth with a want he had never felt before. WANT. He wanted her.

"Do we do something about this mutual want between us?" he had to ask. His hand went to her breast, playing, tugging, and pulling. He pushed aside the fabric on the right breast as his mouth finally went to her breast, tasting its luscious, erect nipple as his hand began to travel down further. His hand was almost to her center, but she had to ruin it.

Her brain started to work overtime again. She pushed him completely off her, catching him unaware. "I don't know if I want you or not." It wasn't a lie. It was how she suddenly felt. She was as disappointed as he was. She sat on the side of her bed, reached for her shirt on the floor, and she tugged at it until it found its way back over her body. He couldn't move, so he watched her. He took it too far, but she had better not say it was a mistake or that she was confused, because he might strangle her.

She said nothing else at that time. She went back to her closet, grabbed some pajamas, and went to her bathroom. He was so angry with her that he almost couldn't see straight. Was this how frustrated she felt when he was confused? Because if it was, he wondered how he was still alive. She should have throttled him. She walked back in the room, turned off the light, and as if he were an extra throw pillow on her bed, mere decoration, she ignored his existence. She turned down the covers on the side of the bed not occupied by Draco and crawled under the covers.

He didn't know what to do next. Should he try to ravish her again? Should he get up and leave? Should he shut his eyes and go to sleep? Because the truth was that, he was mentally exhausted.

"What does all this mean, Granger?" he finally asked.

She turned to her side to face him. He zipped his zipper, buttoned his slacks, and turned to face her, too.

"Goodnight, Draco," she said. She turned to her other side.

"That's a stupid answer," he said, pouting.

She wanted him to leave, but at the same time, she didn't want him to leave. She felt as if she couldn't even swallow. Damn him. He did confuse her now, and she didn't like that feeling. Was this really how he had felt toward her, wanting her, yet not wanting to upset the equilibrium that was their friendship, because if it was how he had been feeling, she wondered, how was he still sane?

She felt him stand from the bed. She assumed he was leaving. Her shock turned to instant joy, then back to surprise when she felt the covers turn down, and felt his weight return to the bed. Did he mean to 'sleep with her' after they almost 'slept together'? Apparently, because she felt his arm go over her body, on top of the covers, even as he pulled her closer to him. She soon heard the steady sounds of his breathing lure her into a deep slumber.

However, he wasn't sleeping. Not yet. The cogs in his head were turning at an alarming rate. He was trying to figure out how to knock that confusion right out of her system, because for the first time since all of this started, he had clarity. He wanted to marry her someday, and if he had to slap her senseless, he would make her see that she still wanted to marry him someday, too.

* * *

_Coming up next chapter:_

"_May we talk before the date starts? Talk the way we should have Monday morning in your office?" he asked._

_She stood up, took his hand, and led him to the sofa. "Talk."_

"_I'm sorry about the Kristen thing, let's just get that out there," he said._

"_Duly noted," she said with a smile._

"_Are you really uncertain of your feelings for me now?" he asked._

"_Are you really certain of yours?" she asked back._


	14. 14 Early to Bed, Early to Rise

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 14: Early to Bed, Early to Rise –**

Benjamin Franklin was a great man. He wrote a book called "Poor Richard's Almanac," and one of the most famous quotes from that book was, "Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Now, Draco Malfoy was already healthy. He was practically a perfect specimen of health. Draco Malfoy was extremely wealthy. He had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes, but Draco Malfoy was the antithesis of wise. He was so far off the wise radar that if he even tried to find wise on a compass, he would still go the wrong direction. If he looked up the antonym of wise in a thesaurus it would say, "Look in the mirror, you arse-hole."

He loved her. He really did. He just wasn't sure he knew how to express it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to express it yet. He just wasn't ready, but that didn't mean he didn't love her. If she were awake right now, he would tell her as much! He would! He could be brave! He loved her so much that his heart was breaking because she thought it was too late. Well, screw that and screw her. Actually, he would like to screw her…but that would be a different story.

He woke up early and she was lying by his side, and he knew it was right. It felt right. He stroked her hair and placed a simple kiss thereon. He unwrapped himself from her embrace and scrambled to her dining room/office. It was only 6:15. He had time. He had turned off her alarm so she would sleep in because he had a lot of work to do.

He started to write this week's article. He wrote how everyone had a dream. Dreaming of a perfect life and a perfect partner wasn't solely a female dream. Men often dreamt of that as well. He wrote that he wanted a wife, a child, and a dog, or perhaps a cat. He wrote that it was harder for men to express those dreams and not make them reality, because men lived in the 'here and now' not in the 'someday.' He wrote that just because men didn't go around talking about their future house and future family didn't mean that they didn't want it just as much as women did. Maybe they wanted it more. Maybe they were too afraid to express what they wanted, not because they were afraid of being made fun of, but because they were afraid that it wouldn't come true.

He found an envelope, put the handwritten article inside it, and used his wand to levitate it down to her mailbox. Then he went downstairs to shower, shave, and prepare for their date, which by his approximation was due to start in two hours, at 9:00 am. He said a small spell to make sure she couldn't leave her flat and went to prepare for the date.

Hermione woke up with a start. She looked at her clock and it was after 8 am. As a rule, she was usually at work by now. She generally woke up at 6:30! She must have forgotten to turn her alarm on with all the confusion with Draco! With much anxiety, she dashed from bed and ran to her shower. She dressed in record time and fed Iggy, and grabbed a banana for herself. She loaded her briefcase and went to her door, touched the handle and was knocked right on her bum.

"What?" she asked no one in particular.

She stood up, went for the door handle again, and again was pushed by an unseen force flat on her bum. This time, it hurt a bit. She stood back up and tried to open the door with her wand. It wouldn't budge.

She was beyond perturbed. She went to the Floo and called the Prophet. Her assistant answered the call.

"Hi, Hermione. How are you feeling?" the girl asked.

"Okay, except, I know I'm late, but for some reason I can't get out of my flat," she said. "I'm going to floo in, so will you make sure the floo to my office is open?"

"I thought you were sick," the young girl said.

"Why would you think that?" Hermione asked back.

"Well, usually when people call in sick it is because they're sick," she said. "Don't worry about us; we can muddle through one day without you. Just get better. Diarrhea and vomiting is never a good combination, and frankly, the editor said he was glad you didn't come in and spread it around."

"Vomiting? Diarrhea? Who said I had vomiting and diarrhea?" Hermione asked.

"Draco Malfoy did," she said. "Now you go rest." The girl ended the connection. Hermione stomped her foot. She was being held captive for some reason, and she didn't like it one bit. Was this for retaliation for her rejection of him last night? She went to her phone to call Harry. She knew he always kept his mobile phone on him.

Where was her phone? Her phone was gone! She went to get her mobile phone out of her purse, and it too was gone.

She sat in her comfortable chair by her couch and waited. Draco Malfoy was in so much trouble.

Draco was in his flat making a mental checklist. "Okay, I have the biscuits, the popcorn, the movies, the books, the games, the whips and chains," he laughed, "Scratch those last two. Now, what else do I need? Oh, ice cream!" He collected his bounty, put everything in a paper bag, and headed toward her apartment.

He said the spell to open her door, but his hands were full, so he kicked the door open with his foot. She sat in her chair, arms and legs crossed, staring at him with a look of utter contempt. He thought it was cute.

"Kidnapping is against the law, Malfoy," she said calmly with an even voice.

"Good thing this is a date and not an abduction, because I'm too pretty for jail," he said. He placed his armload of items on the side table by the sofa.

"A date?" she asked. She uncrossed her arms and legs.

"You agreed to our date, and last I heard, you hadn't changed your mind," he stated. He moved over to her telly with a movie in his hand and said, "How do you work this thing."

She didn't know what to say. This was their date? "What do you have planned for today?" She came up and stood beside him. She took the movie from his hand.

"A date. Movies, snacks, a book of poetry, ice cream, which by the way you should put in the freezer. An all day date," he said.

"I never agreed to that," she said.

"But you never said you wouldn't do it either," he said.

"You called my work and told them I was ill," she pointed out to him.

"My exact words were that your head was in the toilet, and you had vomiting and had diarrhea, and you didn't know whether to sit on the commode, or kneel over it," he said laughing.

"That's not pleasant," she said crossly.

"That's what your boss Harvey said. He told me to tell you to not come back to work until Monday," he answered.

He took the snacks and ice cream to her kitchen. When he returned to the living room, she was gone. Damn, he didn't lock the door again. He sighed and plopped himself in the comfortable chair she was sitting in and shut his eyes. Iggy jumped up on his lap. With his eyes closed, he absentmindedly stroked the fat cat's ears.

Hermione walked back in the room, having changed to jeans and jumper, sans shoes, and walked up beside the chair. She said, "Move along Iggy, he's my date, and last time I heard, he didn't swing that way." Draco opened his eyes and looked right at her as she swatted the cat off his lap. She sat on the arm of the chair and looked down at him.

"Nice outfit," he said. She had just gone and changed. He still had time to lock the door.

"I wanted to be comfortable," she said. She started to get up from the chair, but he held her arm.

"May we talk before the date starts? Talk the way we should have talked on Monday morning in your office?" he asked.

She stood up, took his hand, and led him to the sofa. "Talk."

"I'm sorry about the Kristen thing, let's just get that out there," he said.

"Duly noted," she said with a smile.

"Are you really uncertain of your feelings for me now?" he asked.

"Are you really certain of yours?" she asked back.

He thought for a moment. The truth was she scared the shite out of him. Before she came along there was only one type of woman in which he was interested, and that was a woman he could have a good time with and then shag. Not once in his whole life had he wanted to be friends with them before, during or after. He had never even entertained thoughts of a wife and children someday.

Not in any sense.

He just assumed since he had never had those types of yearnings that it meant it wasn't in the stars for him. He had come to accept that. He had never questioned his lifestyle or his choices before.

Then three months ago, he saw Hermione Granger at a Christmas party. She was with Lavender Brown. He walked over to Mike and started to talk with him. He had to Mike, "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yes, Hermione and Lavender are very good friends," Mike said. And that was when it all started, for Hermione and Lavender looked over at them, they both waved, and he thought Hermione had the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, that was the first time she had said she wanted to marry him someday.

Lavender leaned down and said, "What about him? What about Draco Malfoy? Would you date him?"

To which Hermione responded, "I'm going to marry him someday."

Lavender made a joke about how she should hurry up and get him then before he went away.

The next day, he and the happy couple had lunch, where they invited him to their New Year's Eve party. He asked them if Hermione was going to be there. He didn't catch the little look the duo exchanged as they told him that she definitely would be there. Then they told him what Hermione had said at the Christmas party. As soon as he heard that, he made sure he secured an invitation to the New Year's Eve party. Even though they made her statement sound like a joke, he wasn't sure it was. He tried to convince himself that it was, because no one made declarations like that in all seriousness.

Except, now he knew that she did, because when he really searched the deep dark crevices of his long forsaken heart, the moment he saw her at that Christmas party he had the same fleeting thought for the first time in his life and it scared him.

Hence, his confused and sorrowful way of acting. Even though it pained him to admit it, he was only human.

He looked over at her as she sat on the couch beside him, unconscious to what she had just said to him. "I was so lost in thought, I don't know what you said," he admitted.

"That's not encouraging," she said, "because I was asking you if you were certain of your feelings toward me." She started to stand, but he pulled on her arm.

"Come back for a moment," he said, neither demanding nor abrupt. She sat back down. "I can't say I love you, because I have never been in love and I don't' know that I would recognize love if it came up and spit in my eye. However, I have never had as much fun with a woman, aside from having sex, then I've had with you." She shifted slightly on the couch to listen more intently.

He continued. "Love is such an objective thing, it means different things to different people, and sometimes people spout off the word without there being any substance behind it. I can't and won't do that. I do, however, want to pursue a relationship with you, beyond friendship. After all, isn't that what you wanted from me in the first place, for me to consider you as more than a friend, and not while I was under the influence of alcohol?"

"Let me smell your breath, you might be drunk this morning," she joked. He leaned over and she smelled his breath. It smelled like toothpaste. They parted again and she was quiet for a moment before she spoke again.

"See, the thing is that I have never been a rash person, Draco Malfoy." Hermione took another moment to think and then said, "When I told Lavender at the Christmas party that I wanted to marry you, it was a lark at first. I rather meant it, but not really, since I didn't really know you. Then, when I told the next couple of dozen people that I wanted to marry you someday, it was just me perpetuating the story. I still didn't REALLY mean it. I might have wanted it; because I do want to get married someday, but now that I have had time to think about my feelings, I see that my declaration about wanting to marry you is really just that I'm ready to settle down."

"No matter with whom?" he asked.

"Of course the person matters," she said. "I'm not explaining this well." She stood up and walked away from the couch, trying to figure out how to articulate her feelings. "I'm a strong, self-sufficient person." She turned back to him. "Notice I didn't say woman, I said person. I don't need a man in my life to validate anything. But sometimes, I think it would be nice to have a man around to kill spiders for me, and open up jar lids, change the oil in my car, see to home repairs..."

Draco smiled and interrupted with, "Sounds to me like you need a servant, not a man. A house elf would do."

She laughed. "I just mean that while I'm self-sufficient, I still want someone to take care of me sometimes. I want someone to come home to and talk about my day, who will fix me tea, stroke my hair when I'm sad, watch my favourite movie with me, and who won't judge me and won't mock me." She sat back down and took his hand.

"Do you think that person might be me?" he asked.

"I don't know, I think I want it to be you, but I've never really opened myself up to anyone, not really, so maybe I could have already had that, if I had given someone the chance. All this time I was waiting for Mr. Right, and who knows, maybe Mr. Right has come and gone and I never gave him a chance." She was trying hard to convince them both of this statement, and she didn't know if she could make him believe it when she didn't even believe it.

"Give me the chance," he said.

"Are you begging, Draco Malfoy?" she asked with a crooked smile.

He gave her a smirk and said, "Malfoys never beg. It was an order. Don't you ever want a bloke around to give you orders? Give me my slippers and cigar! Go fix my eggs! Come and give me sex! See, orders."

"You're so funny," she sighed with a fake laugh. She put her head on his shoulder. "We took things a bit far last night."

"Or not far enough," he said, "depending on whom you ask."

She ignored that comment and leaned over his body to get the bag her dropped on the side table. He liked it when she pressed her body next to his, no matter the excuse. "What do we have in here?" She put the bag on his lap and started taking out objects.

"Biscuits?" she asked, holding up the shortbread cookies.

"Yep, we might need those and the sweets I put in there," he said. He took out a bag of sweets. "I put the chips, popcorn and ice cream in the kitchen. I even got Iggy some treats."

She reached in there next and brought out a book of poetry. "Yeats?" she asked.

"Would you prefer Browning?" he asked.

"Yeats is a bit maundering and depressing," she said. "Perhaps if we drink a bit first we could read him."

"Are you saying that because he's Irish? I didn't know you were prejudiced," he smiled.

"My mum's grandfather was from Ireland, Malfoy; I just meant alcohol might put me in the mood to read Yeats." She tossed the book on the floor by the sofa.

She reached in again and Draco said, "Watch where you put you hands. The bag is on my lap, you know." She pulled her hand out and then moved the bag to the floor. She reached in and pulled out some wine. "To go with the Yeats," Draco said.

"Ha, you are so witty," she said. She looked in the bag again and said, "Sixteen Candles?" She pulled out the movie and examined it closely.

"I thought I would watch it with you and see where I went wrong planning your perfect date the other night," he said. "I already put the second movie in the player thingy, but we can change it to that one first."

"What's the other movie?' she asked.

"Something called 'Jaws'." She started to laugh but stopped because he seemed perfectly serious. Finally, he said, "I'm joking."

She got up and went to the telly. She picked up the box and said, "This says 'Terms of Endearment'." She threw the box back on the television and said, "That must be for after we get drunk and read Yeats."

"Isn't it a romantic movie?" he asked. "The title seems like it would be romantic. The woman at the rental store said it was one of her favourites."

She sighed and said, "If you think a movie about a bickering mother and daughter, who have nothing in common is romantic, sure. If you think a movie about a married couple who cheats on each other is romantic, by all means, let's watch. If you think a movie about a woman dying of cancer and leaving behind three small children is a love story, let's watch it."

"Hell, Granger, I think we should burn the damn thing instead." He stood up, took it out of the player, and threw the movie across the room.

"You'll have to pay for that if you ruin it," she said.

He just shrugged.

"Okay," she said plainly. "What did you put in the kitchen again?"

"Ice cream and snacks," he admitted. "There are also two decks of cards in the sack."

He walked back over to the couch, sat down, and reached inside and pulled out 'Old Maid' and an ordinary Muggle deck of cards. "The 'Old Maid' cards are for you." He threw them at her. She tossed them over her shoulder where they landed next to the movie he threw.

She reached in again and pulled out a can of whip cream and then she reached in and pulled out some handcuffs. She held one in one hand and the other in the other and gave him a very nasty look.

"Those were last minutes additions. If we get tired of 'Old Maid', that is. Maybe they would go better for our second date." He took them from her and put them back in the bag. "So, poetry first, talking first, or movie first?"

"Movie," she said. She took 'Sixteen Candles' and placed it in the player and came and sat next to him.

The movie had been playing for only a short while when he leaned over for the bag of sweets. She was lying on the opposite end of the couch in a ball on her side. He opened the bag of candy, and then he reached for her feet and placed them on his lap. She smiled at him and turned her attention back to the movie.

He began to move his hand under her the hem of her jeans on her bare ankle, above her socks. He moved his fingers in small circles. She was painfully aware of his ministrations, and was growing increasingly aroused. She quickly looked up at him, and he seemed engrossed in the movie. Was it all an act, or was it real? She didn't care right now, as long as he didn't stop.

His hand continued its seemingly independent trek up and down her leg, under the hem of her jeans. She wondered if he felt the goose pimples that had formed there. He said, "This movie is stupid."

"No it's not," she said back.

"I don't get the humour," he said.

"Its American humour," she said back.

"Oh, that must be it," he said. He withdrew his hand from her pant leg, and she was about to complain, when he placed his hand over her jeans, and rested it on her hip. His thumb started to rub back and forth. "You know, I've seen American comedies that have made me laugh before, so I don't think that's it."

"Well, it's an older movie," she said.

"That's not it," he said.

"Draco, please, be quiet," she said.

"Are Jake and Samantha ever going to get together, because I swear if they don't get together until the very end, I'll scream," he said.

She laughed.

He continued, "I hate movies, or even books or stories for that matter that wait until the end for the pair to get together."

"Well, remember our date from the other night?" she said, "That's the end of the movie, and that's their first interaction and it only takes place the last few minutes at the end of the film."

His hand slapped her rump and she sat up. "HEY!" she said.

"Seriously, Granger," he said. He went up and turned off the telly. "I am not wasting another moment of my life watching a stupid American 1980's film if the people don't even kiss until the effing end of the film!" He started looking through her dismal collection of movies. "Don't you have 'Jaws'?" he asked.

"No," she said with a smile. "This is supposed to be my date with you and we are not watching 'Jaws'."

"It's my date, too!" He said. He continued to look through her ten movies. He said, "You have Godfather I and II, Some stupid rot cartoon called 'The Little Mermaid', and some other stupid twaddle! Stupid Muggles and their stupid movies," he said.

"HEY!" she repeated.

He dismissed her with his hand as he sat next to her again and said, "Don't be offended. You don't make the movies."

"The Muggle part offends me," she said.

"Why, you aren't a Muggle," he said with a lopsided grin. "Let's recreate the last scene from 'Jaws'." He suddenly leaped on her, pinning her to the couch and he tickled ribs.

She kicked at him and screamed with laughter. He stopped tickling her and she said, "No one tickles the shark in the movie, Draco Malfoy." She sighed and said, "I need to go get my mail. I'm supposed to get a letter from my folks. They're vacationing in Southern France." She went to the door and it once again knocked her on her bum.

"Sorry," he said. He stood up and helped her to stand. He tapped the handle with his wand. "I had to be sure you wouldn't leave again." He just remembered that he had put his article in the mail. He said, "I'll go get the mail. I want to see if I have anything."

He came back with the letter from her parents and the large envelope that contained the article.

"What's in the big one, Hermione?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, opening it first. "Maybe it's a bomb."

"Kaboom!" he said while plopping on the couch next to her.

"Oh, it's the article from my mystery writer friend," she said. She began to read it and said, "This guy is brilliant."

"You think so?" he asked.

"Yes, I just wish he would tell me who he is. He deserves to be paid for these articles."

"Maybe he doesn't do it for the money," he said. "I know what you should do, fix him up with the female writer, and have them write about their date. That would be a hoot."

She looked up suddenly. "No, that wouldn't be good."

"Sure it would," he said. "Who is the female writer anyway, I mean, you said you know who she is, so she's not a mystery."

"No, but she doesn't want her identity known," Hermione lied. "Draco, do you mind if I go edit this story? It won't take me long."

"On our date?" he asked.

"Come on, this date has already lasted two hours," she said.

"Are you sick of me?" he asked.

In reality, she wanted to write her article while it was fresh in her mind, but there was no way she was sick of him. She didn't think she would ever become sick of being with him.

She wanted to write about how women tend to play it safe, and are afraid of letting go, rather than deal with the problem directly. She wanted to write how they are always afraid of people thinking less of them if they pursue what they want. She wanted to write that they needed to learn to be honest, and if it scared the man off, then so be it. Women were too afraid of people not liking them. She knew she was. "Please, Draco."

"You don't have to ask my permission," he said.

"I know," she said. Damn, he just proved her point, she was asking permission, and she was afraid of disappointing him. "Give me a half an hour," she said. She ran to the dining room.

He began to walk around her flat, examining everything like a small child who was exploring the world for the first time. He walked past her in the dining room. She was writing a lot, instead of editing. He thought that was interesting. She was writing her article! He walked to her bedroom and opened up all of her dresser drawers. He opened ever last one of them and looked inside them. Then he looked at her books on the bookshelves, and then he set his sights on her chest of drawers. In the top drawer, he found her diary. Oh, this might be good. He put the book under his shirt, walked to the bedroom door and shut it. He sat in front of it and opened the journal.

After leafing through a few pages, he found a recent entry. All it said was, "I think I could easily fall in love with a man like Michael Corner, if I wasn't already in love with Draco." It was dated Tuesday, before her date with Corner.

Well, Draco wasn't going to give her a chance to fall in love with Corner. He didn't know what possessed him, but he tore that page out of the journal and stuck it in his pocket. He stood back up and placed the journal back in the top drawer of her chest of drawers, under her socks, where he found it.

"Draco?" He heard her calling. He hurried and shut the drawer and plopped on her bed. She opened the door.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she asked.

"Reliving the events of last night," he said. He held out his hand, "Come, and let's relive it together. Reenact the best parts."

She remained by the door and said, "I think that was a mistake."

"Yes, I know, you rebuffed me rather roughly last night," he said. "It's cold in here." He pulled down her covers, and fully clothed he climbed under the blankets.

"Draco, it's not going to be repeated, not yet. I told you, I'm confused," she said.

"Since when?" he said. He was tired of this. He threw back the covers and pulled out the page from her journal. "Just two days ago you told me you loved me. What's changed?"

"What?" she asked. She snatched the piece of paper from him, looked over to her chest of drawers and then back to him. "How dare you! And I didn't tell you I loved you, I told my journal that I loved you!"

"Well, the point is the same, you love me!" he said.

"Get out!" she said. She pointed to the bedroom door.

"Granger, just admit it," he said.

"You are so insensitive," she said. She sat down on the bed, crumbled the piece of paper in a ball and threw it on the floor. "Why do you ruin the end of all of our dates?"

"Practice," he laughed. He crawled behind her and placed a leg on each sides of her. He placed his arms around her middle and kissed her hair. "Listen; just tell me what to do."

"I DON'T KNOW! HENCE THE MEANING OF THE WORD CONFUSION!" she shouted. She bent her head. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter. "Maybe I'm more than confused, Draco. Maybe I am a bit afraid, and I don't like being afraid."

He wondered why she was either. "You don't have your wand do you?" He felt the need to ask.

"No," she said softly.

"Then please, tell me what you want me to do?" he said again. He felt so nervous. He needed her guidance, because he truly didn't know what she wanted or expected from him.

Without turning around to look at him she said, "You know how I feel. You read it. I do love you. Do you love me?" There, she could be brave. She could say what she meant. She could put it all out there without fear of refutation.

Draco knew that question deserved an answer. It was the most important question anyone had every asked him. He knew she wouldn't accept an 'I don't know', but that was the truth. He wanted her. He wanted to make love to her right now. But he knew it was more than sex, but was it love? He thought he loved her earlier, so why couldn't he say it now?

"What is love, Hermione?" he asked softly in her ear.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, turned her face slightly to look in his eyes, and said, "What is love? Love is a perfect answer to a perplexing question. Love is a lover's touch, and a gentle smile, shared only by two. What is love? Is it holding hands and walking on the sand, or it is two lives coming together as one? What is love, love is pain, sorrow, passion, and lust all rolled up in one and never experienced alone. What is love? The bible says that love is gentle and kind, love is not envious, and it seeks not its own way."

"What is love? Love is sharing your life and your memories and having someone rejoice in the simple things you say, and revel in the obsolete things you do. Love is someone who will care for you no matter what. If you had taken a moment to read the page before the one you tore out of my journal, you would have read the poem I wrote that said all of what I just said and more."

"Do you feel those things for me?" he asked.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Without answering his question, she said, "Do you want to know what the last stanza of my poem is?"

"What is it?" he asked, closing his eyes and placing his cheek next to hers.

"What is love?" she started, "It is never having to wonder what you should call it, because it's instantly recognizable by those who share it."

He opened his eyes at the same time she did. She moved his arms from around her waist and turned to look at him. He looked up at her, mouth slightly opened. He seemed astounded by her words. She was right. Damn her, she was right.

"See, Draco, if you loved me, you wouldn't have to ask me the question 'what is love' and you certainly wouldn't have to ask me if I love you. You would automatically know that I do." She walked out of her bedroom and down the hall. She started to pick up everything he brought and put them all back in the sack.

When he was over the shock of her answer (though he still wasn't sure he knew what it was), he joined her. She handed him his bag. "I'll keep the ice cream. I might need it," she said with a sad smile.

"Granger," he said, but then he said no more.

"Bye, Draco. I'll see you at the wedding. I still plan on going with Mike, Lavender and Michael. I think I'm no longer confused, but my dear sweet friend," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand, "it would appear that you still are. I won't put my life on hold for you, not any longer. I need to find what might be out there for me, okay?"

"Are we at least still friends?" he had to ask.

She smiled, but it was a false smile. She swallowed hard, to keep back the tears. He walked up to her and this time, he cupped her cheek. He leaned forward and kissed her lips with a soft, wanting kiss that was full of anticipation and questions. "You better not tell me we aren't still friends."

"I don't think we are and for that I'm sorry. I love my friends, but I'm not generally in love with them, and I think pretending otherwise might hurt too much, you know?" She finally let the tears fall.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he wouldn't do that until he was sure he wasn't confusing lust with love. He wouldn't do that to her! Maybe that was love. Could that be love, to put her feelings before his? He would find out, if he had to ask a million people.

He knew one thing, she loved him and now it was time to find out if he loved her in return. Maybe to do that, he needed to be away from her for a while. Give her some space. Give her to Michael 'the prat' Corner. He knew one thing, she had better wait for him!

Now he swallowed hard. Wasn't it just this morning that he declared his love to her in his own mind? Why couldn't he now declare it to her? WHY? He said, "When I do tell you I love you, know this, Granger, I won't be confused. If and when I tell you, it will be real."

"Let's just hope it's not too late," she said as she shut the door to her flat, leaving him alone in her hallway, with a sack full of movies, sweets, and stupid love poems.

* * *

_Coming up next chapter:_

"_Go ask someone else to dance. See if you feel the same thing in someone else's arms as you felt in mine," Draco urged._

"_What will that prove? I could just lie to you and tell you I feel something that I don't," she said._

_He couldn't help but laugh. "Oh you poor thing, you really think you could lie to me?" He placed his hand on her face, and dipped his head to brush his lips to hers. "You can never lie to me, Granger, only to yourself."_

"_That's right, Draco. You have the corner on lying about what you feel," she said. She walked over to a crowd of men, put her hand on the shoulder of the closest one and said, "Would you care to dance?"_


	15. 15 Love Means Nothing

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 15: Love Means Nothing if You Can't Even Say the Word:**

Everyone remembers cheesy lines from movies. _"I'll make him an offer he can't refuse,"_ The Godfather. "_You're going to need a bigger boat_," Jaws. "_Say Hello to my little friend,_" Scarface. "_Oh, oh yes, yes, yessssss_!" When Harry met Sally. "_Expecto Patronum_!" Okay, that last one might not be from a movie, but Hermione wasn't sure. However, she was sure of one quote, one of the most cliché quotes of all quotes. It was from a movie from 1970, adapted from a book by Erich Segal. The movie starred Ali MacGraw as a poor girl and Ryan O'Neal as a rich boy and the two fall in love, and then she gets cancer and dies.

You get the picture.

The quote: "Love means never having to say you're sorry."

Hermione now knew what that meant, and when she applied it to her own life, suddenly it didn't seem so cliché. She finally understood that love is not selfish, it is not for your own wants and needs, and it's completely unconditional. Yes, she finally knew what it meant.

It meant that love was accepting someone for who they were. It meant that if the person you loved made a mistake, you don't judge them for it.

It meant that when you loved someone, with all your heart and soul, you forgave them when they didn't know if they loved you in return. See with real love, you don't need love in return, because real love is absolute like that. You love the person's flaws as much as you love their good attributes. When you love someone, it never falters or fades away. It meant throwing away what you want because it was what the other person wanted that was important. It meant accepting what you need, even if you find that accepting it breaks your heart.

It meant even if you weren't meant to be together, you're a better person just for having known and loved the other person.

It meant never letting go unless it was for the other person's own good, never giving up unless it was what the other person wanted, and most importantly never saying you're sorry.

Hermione wasn't sorry she was in love with Draco Malfoy. She was just sorry he didn't love her in return.

The wedding was very nice. Hermione sat between Michael and Mike, and several times, she became teary eyed during the service. Once was when the groom said his vows, proclaiming his love for his bride for the whole world to hear. Some men could do that, some men, like Draco, just couldn't. The other time was when one of the groomsmen walked past, looked her straight in the eye, and then gave her the saddest, most bittersweet smile she had ever seen. 'Poor little confused Draco Malfoy' she thought. Mike looked over her shoulder to Michael when he heard Hermione sniffle, and gave him a reproachful look. The look meant, "Do something, bastard."

Michael took Hermione's hand and gave it a squeeze, and somehow that really did help.

At the reception, which was held in a grand ballroom, the happy couple was dancing their first dance together as man and wife, and Hermione looked over at Draco and the other groomsmen. They were all laughing and having fun. She looked at Lavender and Mike, who had just stood up to dance. She looked over at Michael who was in a deep discussion with some wizard in the corner. She had never felt more alone in her entire life.

She looked at her table, and she really was all alone, and suddenly overwhelmed once more with sadness. She scooted her plate away from her and placed her hand on the white tablecloth. She began to trace the elaborate design on the tablecloth with her index finger.

"Is it that interesting, Granger?" a voice from behind her asked.

She nodded. She looked up. She smiled and then looked back down.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked.

She shook her head no.

"Are you angry with me?"

She shook her head no.

"What are you, then?" he asked, pulling the chair next to her away from the table, and sitting down.

She screamed inside her head, "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, THAT'S WHAT I AM!" But, remembering the quote of 'Love and sorry,' she said, "I'm just thinking."

"Of ways to hurt me?" he laughed.

"No, I wouldn't hurt a friend," she answered, still not looking at him.

"I thought I wasn't your friend any longer," he said.

"You aren't my friend any longer," she said somewhat vaguely. She didn't feel like his friend. She loved him too much for friendship. "Nevertheless, I'm still yours, so I guess we could dance."

She looked up and he took her hand and guided her to the dance floor, his hand on her back burning a hole through the material of her silky dress, her hand in his causing her heart to skip a beat. A slow dance started.

"You look pretty today," he said.

"Thank you," she answered.

"Do I look pretty?" he asked.

He was being charming again. She felt like he was flirting with her again, but maybe Draco was just naturally charming around women. Some men are. Of course, she had know Draco most of her life, and when they were young she saw nothing to give credence to that argument, which would mean either he was flirting with her, or he had learned to be charming.

"You know, friend isn't a dirty word, and it isn't simplistic. You can be a person's friend, and be more as well," he said in her ear.

"I know that, do you?" she asked. She laid her head on his chest. He had her left hand clasped tightly in his right hand and held them both on his chest, between their bodies. Her right arm went under his arm and her hand rested on his back. His left hand pressed firmly against her back.

He didn't know how to answer her question. He still didn't know if he loved her. He just wished someone would explain to him what love was, and then maybe he could recognize it. He grew up knowing he was loved by his parents, but was never really shown it. How did Hermione expect him to announce he loved her when he didn't truly know what love looked like, felt like, or acted like? He grew up thinking love was material things, like how many presents you gave someone. His father showed his mother love with presents. He never once saw him show his love to her with a word or a touch.

He really was a product of his upbringing, and Hermione shouldn't hold that against him.

The other day when he asked her what love was, and she quoted her little love sonnet, he knew he felt most of those things, but he still didn't know if he was in love.

Damn his damn perplexity and indecisiveness. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but he wanted it to be real first. He had to know unequivocally that he loved her before he said it. He just didn't want to lose her before he said it.

So, avoiding her question, he said, "Are you having a nice time with Michael?"

"He's been very kind today, a true friend," she said.

He smiled internally knowing that she still just thought of Michael as a friend. Then he frowned slightly knowing that she didn't even consider him one anymore. He said, "Hermione, are you going to give me time to sort out my feelings?"

She stopped dancing and looked up at him. It felt so right being in his arms. She felt safe and happy and loved, even if he didn't love her. She said, "Take all the time you need, but I intend to continue living my life, and whatever comes, comes."

He didn't like the sound of that.

Michael Corner tapped on his shoulder. "May I cut in, Malfoy?" Draco hoped that whatever came for her wasn't in the form of Michael Corner.

Michael must have sensed that she needed to be 'saved'. Draco looked at Hermione, then back to Michael. He didn't want ever to give her to that man. Was the jealousy that he was feeling love? Damn, someone had better tell Draco what love was and soon, because he felt he didn't have much time.

He gave her hand to Michael and walked off the dance floor.

Hermione leaned against Michael's chest, and his arms went around her body, holding her tightly.

Jealousy…Draco was definitely feeling that emotion.

Mike walked up to him and said, "You're a git. You know that, don't you?"

"I've been called that, among other things, but whether or not I agree with that assessment is another story," Draco said, taking some white wine from a passing waiter.

"You're going to lose her before you even had her, and it'll be your own fault, Malfoy," Mike said.

Draco downed the whole glass in one drink. He said, "What do you know about it, Cooper?"

"I know that she told us that you're still unsure of your feelings. I know that she said she laid it on the line, told you that she loved you, and you just wanted to know if you were still friends," Mike said with disgust. "So, that's what I know, Malfoy."

Draco glared at his friend and said, "Do you want me to tell her something that might not be true?"

"You're more than a git, you are a stupid idiot," Mike said. "Let me ask you something, why are so sure what you feel for her isn't love?"

"I'm not, but that's the thing, I'm unsure. How do I know what I feel for her is?" Draco said.

Mike sat at an abandoned table and Draco sat next to him.

"What do you need cleared up? I'm in love, maybe I can help," he said.

"Tell me what love is," Draco said.

"Malfoy, you're a smart man, you should know if you love someone or not. Only you can look inside your own heart."

Draco looked up as the slow song ended. Michael and Hermione began to dance to the next song. He said, "I feel jealous right now, because I want to be the one who's dancing with her, not Corner. However, feeling jealous and possessive isn't love, is it? I feel the same way when I see someone with anything that I covet. If you had the newest broom, and I didn't, I would be jealous. Does that mean I love your broom?"

"Maybe." Mike laughed. "Tell me what else you KNOW you feel for her."

"I like spending time with her," Draco said, looking over at her. "I think about spending time with her when I'm away from her."

"I feel that way about Lavender," Mike said.

"Is that love or loneliness?" Draco asked sincerely.

"For me, it's love," Mike said. "For you, who knows? What else?"

"I do want her physically. I desire her. I have had many tantalizing dreams about her," Draco said with a smile.

"That's a good sign. Have you ever had a dream like that about any of your other friends?" Mike asked with a grin.

"Greg Goyle looks pretty good in my dreams sometimes," Draco joked.

Both men laughed.

"I have sex dreams about a lot of women, but I don't love them either. Lust and desire aren't love," Draco finally said.

"No, but they go hand-in-hand with love," Mike said.

The next song ended, and Hermione and Michael went to go get some cake.

"Is there anything else?" Mike asked.

Draco said, "No, you tell me now, tell me how you know you love Lavender."

"I would give my life for her if I had to," he began, "I would protect her above all others. I would walk across hot coals if she were on the other side. I seek her happiness before my own. I love just sitting around with her, saying nothing at all. I love holding her in my arms after sex almost as much as I love the sex itself. I want to have a life with her, a future, children, and grandchildren, and grow old together." Mike stood up and said, "That's my definition of love, but everyone is different, Draco. Love is subjective, you know. Everyone loves differently." He walked away.

Draco felt his heart burst. Good God almighty, Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger, because everything Mike had just said that he felt for Lavender he felt for Hermione. It was about time someone told him what love was! He stood and strolled across the room, where Hermione was standing with Lavender and Mike.

Draco walked over to Hermione with the intention of telling her that he loved her, but once again, he chickened out because he wasn't some brave Gryffindor. He didn't want to do it in front of the others, so he said, "Would you care to dance with me again, Hermione?" He would tell her on the dance floor.

She looked from him to the others and said, "Well, I…well, I don't know." She bit her bottom lip and said, "I think Michael wanted to dance again."

Draco looked out at the dance floor and said, "He is dancing again, with Kristen, see?" He placed his hand on the small of her back, and pointed to the dancing pair. The small touch of his hand on her back made her stomach clench. Why was he doing this to her? "So, don't you want to dance?"

"Maybe I want to dance again, but with someone else this time," Hermione said. "Maybe I just don't want to dance with you."

"Fine, go ask someone else to dance. See if you feel the same thing in someone else's arms as you felt in mine," he urged, leaning toward her ear so only she could hear him. It didn't matter, because Mike and Lavender decided to leave them alone and go dance themselves.

"What will that prove? You don't know what I felt in your arms, and you don't know what I will feel in someone else's arms. I could just lie to you and tell you I feel something that I don't," she said.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Oh you poor thing, you really think you could lie to me?" He placed his hand on her face, and dipped his head to brush his lips to hers. "You can never lie to me, Granger, only to yourself."

"No, lying is your expertise, isn't it?" she said.

"Not any longer," he said.

"I've heard that before," she said with anger.

Now he was becoming angry, too. He had his pride after all. He wasn't going to tell her he finally knew he loved her if she was going to be a bitch about things. He would tell her later. He pointed to a crowd of men and said, "Go on, ask one of them to dance if you want to dance so badly, I dare you."

She glowered at him and walked over to the group of men. One with shoulder length blond hair was standing with his back to her. She tapped the fellow's shoulder and said, "Would you care to dance?"

The person turned around and it was not a man at all! The woman worked with Hermione at the paper. She was the one that thought Hermione was gay. Hermione was beyond embarrassed. Why would a woman wear a black suit to a wedding, for goodness sakes?

The entire group of men (and one woman), grew silent and stared at Hermione. The woman said, "I really am sorry, Hermione, but I told the last time you asked me out that I'm not gay. However, I happened to know the groom's first cousin, Carla is. Would you like me to introduce you?"

She said it so nicely, without any maliciousness, that Hermione just smiled and said, "That's okay. Thanks, though." She turned around to see Draco Malfoy laughing at her.

She felt like crying. Michael saw the whole thing, heard Malfoy laughing and whispered something in Kristen's ear. Then he let go of Kristen, walked over to Hermione and said, "I'll dance with you again, if you'd like."

"Would you take me home instead?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. He kissed her cheek gently, took her hand, and they walked out of the ballroom.

Draco Malfoy stopped laughing and watched them leave. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to tell Hermione Granger he finally knew what love was, and if she didn't let him tell her, then she would be so sorry, because Draco believed that love meant saying you're sorry!

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_What's a fuse box?" he asked._

_She laughed. He had missed that laughter so very much. She said, "So much for that." She started down the stairs._

"_What did that mean?" he asked, hot on her heels._

"_I always thought it was the man who was supposed to take care of things like fuses, hot water tanks, gas leaks, the like," she said. "Thanks for shattering my dream once again." _


	16. 16 Different Points of View

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 16 Part I: (Draco's View): Fool me once, Shame on You, Fool me Twice, No way:**

A fortnight had passed since the wedding, and Draco had only seen Hermione six times in that two-week period. He saw her the day after the wedding, when she was entering the house after being who knows where. She didn't even smile at him. She looked at him and said, "Hello, Malfoy," (the word 'Draco' apparently no longer part of her vocabulary) and then she walked past him and up the stairs.

He saw her that next Tuesday at the Prophet. He was meeting Mike and Lavender for lunch. He sat on Lavender's desk, tried to act nonchalant, but the whole time craning his head to look in her office. She saw him, stood up, and shut her door. He thought that was very rude of her, but she never did have very good manners in his opinion.

The third time he saw her was on that Friday night, a week and one day after their 'official' date. He knocked on her door, handed her his recent article, telling her it was put in his mailbox by mistake. She preceded to hand him an envelope as well. He looked inside and saw a cheque for several thousand galleons.

"What is this?" he bellowed.

"Rent for this month and last month. I know it's time for next month's rent, but I'm rather short and will get it to you soon," she said, trying to shut her door in his face.

"Where did you come up with all this money?" he asked, holding the door open.

"I borrowed it," she said while trying to shut her door, again.

His foot went promptly over the threshold and he said, "From whom?" If she said Michael Corner, he thought he would spontaneously combust.

"Harry Potter," she said.

That was even worse! He didn't need money from The Boy Who Lived! He made a strangled, disgusted noise, tore the cheque and envelope in tiny pieces, sprinkled them over her head and said, "That's what I think of that, Granger!"

However, things went uphill from there, because the next several episodes she was at least pleasant and spoke to him without a grimace on her face.

The fourth time he saw her was on the Sunday after that. He was upstairs in his office, working late. It was storming very badly. It was one of those winter storms that come up unexpectedly, with freezing rain, wind, hail, and the works. The electricity in the house went off and he was baffled about what to do. He started down the stairs, the only light coming from his wand, when he saw her outside her door, her lit wand in hand and her cat safely in her arms.

"I was coming to see if you lost power, too," she said.

"It stands to reason if you did, I did," he said, trying to sound smarmy, but not succeeding.

"Where's your fuse box? We should make sure it's not just us. If it's the neighbourhood, we'll just have to wait it out." She put the cat back in her flat, shut the door, and waited.

"What's a fuse box?" he asked.

She laughed. He had missed that laughter so very much, and he delighted in hearing it again, even if it was at his expense. She said, "So much for that." She started down the stairs.

"What did that mean?" he asked, hot on her heels.

"I always thought it was the man who was supposed to take care of things like fuses, hot water tanks, gas leaks, the like," she said. "Thanks for shattering my dreams once again."

He wondered what she meant by that. "I grew up in a magical home, Hermione. We didn't have those types of problems," he said with sarcasm. "That doesn't mean I'm not a man." In his head, he added, 'and the man for you'.

"I wasn't questioning your manhood, Draco Malfoy," she said. He smiled. She called him by his nickname again.

They had just reached the door to his flat on the bottom floor when the lights came back on, and she said, "There you are, it wasn't the fuses after all. Well, goodnight." She walked back up the stairs and he cursed the damn electricity. If he knew where his fuse box was, he would turn the damn thing back off, because he was so close to having a normal conversation with her.

Maybe they would have gone in his flat, lit some candles, eaten something from the icebox before it went bad, and had a few laughs. He missed his friend, Hermione, but more than that, he missed the woman he was beginning to love.

The fifth time he saw her was much more fleeting. It was yesterday. She was walking down her stairs as he was leaving his flat. He was waiting for her, looking out a narrow crack in his door, but she didn't need to know that.

She walked to the front door just as he walked out of his with a little ginger cat under his arm.

"You got a cat?" she asked as she stood by the front door.

"Yes, I did," he said. He actually had borrowed it from his little assistant, Marie. She was out of town, and told Draco that her sister was going to watch her cat for her, and he offered to do it. She gave him the weirdest look and refused at first. He told her he wanted to do it, so that morning she brought him the cat. He thought it would be something he and Granger could share. He thought he might need to seek her assistance if the cat had a hairball or something.

He decided to fess up, not wanting to lie to her, and since he would have to return the damn thing in a week, so he said, "Well, it's my assistant Marie's cat. She's out of town and I told her I would watch it."

"You could have kept it at her house and looked in on it there. That would have been easier on you and the cat," she lectured. Marie told him that same thing.

"I thought this would be easier," he said.

"Where are you going with it?" she asked.

"I was taking it for a walk. Give it some exercise, you know?" he said. Okay, fine, technically, he was lying to her now, because he wasn't such an incompetent buffoon that he thought cats took walks, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"You don't walk cats! He or she might escape," she said, shocked. "Is it a boy or girl?"

He had no ideal. Its name was Butterscotch and Draco was fairly certain that was an androgynous name. He took a guess, since he had even odds and said, "It's a boy."

"Well, put it back in your flat. I have to go to work before I'm late, so goodbye," she said.

"Will you stop by after work and teach me how to feed it," he asked. He was serious. He knew nothing about cats.

She gave him an incredulous look, but then said, "Fine, but I have a date after work so I'll stop by after my date, because I shouldn't be out too late. Don't kill it before then."

He heard nothing after the words, "I have a date."

This led to the sixth and last time he saw since the wedding. He didn't see her after her fucking date, because Draco called Marie's sister, told her to come get "Butterscotch" because he forgot he had allergies, and then Draco conveniently left for the rest of the night. He didn't know if Hermione came or not, but he figured good riddance to her.

Draco was a fool.

Yesterday, Draco was sitting on the landing of the second floor, waiting for her to come home from work. He was going to have a final showdown with her. He was going to tell her that he had been a fool. It was like the old proverb, 'Fool me once, and shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me." He was confused (how he was beginning to hate that word!) at first. He couldn't help it. He tried hard not to be, but he was. And FINE! He would acknowledge the fact that he was the indecisive one the second go-round, too! Hence the shame about fooling her twice. Well he wasn't confused any longer, and he refused to acknowledge that she was. She loved him; he knew that, so now all he had to do was tell her he loved her, too.

Draco truly missed Hermione. He missed her deep down in his heart. He wondered if she missed him as much. She couldn't possibly, because she was braver and more honest than he was, and if she missed him this much, she would have already done something about it.

He hated seeing her sad and disappointed, but what he hated more was that he was the cause of it. He even dreamt of her last night. It was the mandatory sex dream he had almost every night, but last night he truly felt as if he was making love to her, not just having sex. He woke up in a pool of his own sweat, (in March!) and the hardest erection he could ever remember having. He had to take a cold shower. Hell, he even wanked in the shower, the whole time feeling guilty because he was thinking of her, and knowing that if he hadn't messed up, they would have undoubtedly been having sex by now, and if he woke up with an erection she could take care of his problem instead of him having to take care of it himself.

"I love you," he said aloud. Those three words scared the shite out of him. They weren't that hard to say, so why had he been avoiding them all this time? He had never said them to a woman before, and he had never wanted to say them until now.

He always assumed he couldn't be the man she needed and wanted. He never thought he could go the distance, and he never wanted to give her false hope, because he cared for her too much. Whenever he thought of commitment, he felt like he was drowning and the only way to rise to the surface was to bury the word commitment back down in his gut, and then and only then, could he breathe again.

He still feared that word as much as the three little words, but it was time to put fear aside and start living a real life, instead of a false, paper cutout life.

He heard the door and stood up to go to her flat's door. He could hear Iggy mewing and whining inside the door. Draco realized that Iggy must be able to sense that 'his person' was home. Draco said, "I get her first, Iggy."

He heard her talking to someone. It was a man. He frowned when he recognized the voice. It was Michael 'the tosser' Corner. He heard her laughing. He heard them walking up the stairs. Then he heard them stop on the stairs. He slyly peeked down the banister and saw Hermione standing on a step, and Corner standing two steps below her, and they were kissing. A real kiss. A Draco and Hermione kiss and he actually felt the bile rise up in his throat.

He had always wanted to kiss her on the steps like that, with her standing a couple of steps above him, leaning her body against his. Okay, he actually just now thought of that, but it still would be nice.

He heard Corner say, "May I come up?"

"Michael," Hermione started and then stopped. Draco was rooting her on in his mind, telling her, _'that's right, tell him to shove off and go take a cold shower like I had to!'_

She continued, "I don't think we should sleep together yet." (_Yeah! Draco thought.)_

"Hermione, you know how much I care for you." _(Stupid Corner.)_

"I know, you've told me, but you know that I just want to take it slow and make sure what I feel is real." (_That's telling him, Hermione!)_

"Are you still pining for Malfoy?" _(You'd better believe she's still pining for me, Corner!)_

"I'm not pining for anyone, and besides, I know that we'll never be more than friends." _(WHAT? WE'RE MORE THAN FRIENDS! TELL THE TWAT TO GO HOME AND I CAN TELL YOU AS MUCH!)_

"Hermione, I don't know what I can say to convince you that you and I could have a future, except to say that I love you. There, I said it, I do." (_NO! NO! DOUBLE FUCKING NO! CORNER DOESN'T LOVE YOU, HERMIONE, I DO!)_

Draco was clutching the wood of the banister so tightly he almost broke it in half.

"Michael, I can't say that I love you back, not yet, because I'm unsure of how I feel," she said. _('Now she knows how I felt. She loved me and I was unsure. Perhaps she will have some sympathy now!' Draco thought.)_

He heard Michael sigh and say, "Hermione, I don't know what else to say, except that I really do love you. These last two weeks of dating have been wonderful. I'll wait until your confusion clears, okay? But, not forever." Draco heard the prat prance off and then he heard Hermione walk up the stairs, crying.

Draco was in shock and didn't even try to hide or disapparate, or anything. She reached her landing and saw him just standing there.

"Karma has a way of coming up and biting a person in the rump, Draco," she said. He looked confused, so she continued. "I have a perfectly wonderful man who claims to love me, and I can't tell him I love him back, because I'm not sure that I do, and I don't want to lie to him, or hurt him, and I really don't want to lose him as a friend."

"Yeah, I heard," Draco admitted.

"Just like you and I, right?" she said.

"Hermione…" he started, only to have her cut him off by saying, "The only difference is that he's willing to give me time to sort through my feelings of confusion, and I didn't afford you that same courtesy, did I?"

"Hermione, wait," he said as she started in her flat. "Do you hate me now?"

"No," she said.

"Do you still love me?" He had to know.

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"Does Corner make you happy? Do you picture him by your side for the rest of your life? Do you love him, even a little?" he asked, with a pensive expression on his face. He walked right up to her and stood just within an arm's reach.

"He loves me, and he makes me feel safe, and he treats me well," she said. "He may not be my Mr. Right, but he's my Mr. Right now, and I may not have another chance for happiness."

"Hermione," he said in a reproachful tone, "Where the hell is the fun in that statement? He treats you well. He makes you feel safe. Don't you want more than that? Don't give up your dream! Wait for Mr. Right."

"There's no such thing as Mr. Right," she said.

He put his hand on her cheek. "What do you feel when I put my hand on your cheek?"

"Draco, I can't do this again," she said.

"What do you feel?"

"You know what I feel," she said.

"Yes, I do, because I feel the same way," he said. His hand went from her cheek to her neck and pulled her closer. His lips skimmed her skin from her ear to her chin. When his mouth reached hers he said, "I do." His lips touched hers lightly with a tender, sweet kiss. He placed the other hand up on her face, as his first hand came back to the other side. With both hands trapping her face in their hold, he lifted her chin and leaned away, looked at her quickly, and then came back to her mouth so he could properly kiss her. His mouth claimed hers, kissing her fervently, and the feel of her body next to his felt heavenly. It was so sweet and so real.

She hadn't expected this, and she didn't know what to do. She felt dizzy, just from his kiss. He slipped one arm around her waist as his lips played with hers, tugging and pulling, pushing and playing. She gave into the feeling, because she felt safe and secure and so, so right.

He moved his lips across her face again; small, wet, feathery soft kisses to her face and neck. He said in her ear, "I know you think you are confused, but this kiss proves to me that neither of us is confused. This is real, Hermione. It is. Admit it." He pushed her slightly away from him and gave her a self-satisfying smile.

Before he could proclaim his love the little bitch slapped his hand away, shoved him away from her door, stepped over the threshold, slammed, and locked her door, and said, "Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice, shame on you, Draco Malfoy! It's too late!"

He banged on the door with both fist, and said, "It's never too late!"

As previously mentioned, Draco Malfoy was a fool.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_I have an idea, since I'm having such a dry spell with women, tonight's date notwithstanding, why don't you fix me up with that female writer, since you won't fix her up with the male writer," Draco said._

"_No, you aren't her type," Hermione said._

"_Whose type am I?" he asked with a stupid grin on his face._

"_I'm not sure, but I think Joe still has a bit of a crush on you," she said with a smile._

"_Joe? How about you, do you still have a crush on me?"_

* * *

**Chapter 16 Part II (Hermione's View): One plus One Equals Three:**

The first mathematical equation a child learns in primary school is always one plus one equals two. It is more than a basic mathematical equation; it is a lesson in life. That lesson is that one man plus one woman equals love. Different equations are right for different people. For some it is one man plus one man equals love. For others it is one woman plus one woman equals love. For the crazy cat lady down the street, it is one woman plus 18 cats equal love. The point is that for Hermione Granger it was Hermione Granger plus Draco Malfoy equals love.

Hermione thought that instead of her life mimicking the one plus one rule, her life now was more like a triangle, with three sides: her, Draco and Michael. Instead of an old ordinary triangle, her life was like the isosceles triangle, because two of the three sides were equal, and one side was not. She and Draco were the equal sides, and poor Michael Corner was the unequal side, and it wasn't his fault, it was hers.

Hermione didn't like being in a triangle. She felt trapped. It was of her own making too, which was worse. She wouldn't even give Draco the time of day, let alone a chance at being a couple. A very small, dark part of her wanted to punish him for a while, to string him along and make him suffer the way she suffered. It wasn't right of her, but that was what she felt, even at the expense of her own happiness. As long as she could then turn around and say, "Hey, guess what, I'm ready for you now," because truthfully, she felt like that was what Draco did to her.

But the good side of her, the side with compassion and a conscience, the 'Jiminy Cricket' side, told her that she had no right to play with other people's lives and emotions like that. She was not only toying with Draco's emotions, but with Michael's emotions as well, and he was just an innocent bystander.

Michael. Poor misguided Michael. Hermione could tell that he was falling in love with her, and she didn't know what to do about it. He was perfect in almost every way. Hermione didn't sense any insincerity about him; he was earnest and kind, generous and loving, attentive, handsome, and endearing. Yes, he was perfect in almost every way except one. He wasn't Draco, and she didn't love him. She was beginning to care deeply for him, and sometimes that was the foundation for love, the beginning of love. She enjoyed his company, and he was an excellent kisser, but she didn't love him.

They hadn't made love yet. Hermione wouldn't do that to him or to Draco. She never had casual sex for the sake of having sex. She only had sex when she loved someone, and she wanted to love Michael, she really did. She tried to keep an open mind about him, but the most basic fact remained that she loved another. She loved Draco, but she was still uncertain whether they belonged together. She still didn't fully trust that he wouldn't change his mind about her someday. She still felt down deep in her gut that he might break her heart someday. Well, more than it was breaking now.

She was stuck in a triangle, a love triangle, with two equal sides. Too bad the equal sides weren't Michael and Hermione.

It was Friday night and Hermione hurried home, arms full of groceries, the late March wind blowing her hair all around her face. She had just reached the door when Draco ran up the walk. He said, "Let me get the door." It was the first thing he had said to her in days. She looked up at him, her hands still full, and her hair still flying in her face.

He smiled at her and his hand came up to her hair to smooth it out of her face. "The wind and your hair don't mix, do they?" he laughed.

She had missed his laugh.

She smiled and he unlocked the door with his wand. Then he took some of the groceries from her hands and held open the door for her to enter. He placed her bags on the bottom step and asked, "Are you cooking for an army?"

"No, just one person. Well, two if you count me," she said. She placed the bag that was in her hand by the other two on the steps.

"Oh, Corner coming for dinner?" he asked.

"No, someone else," she said shyly.

"Are you becoming a serial dater, Granger?" he tried to joke.

"No, although you would recognize one if you saw them, I'm sure," she said.

"I've only been on two dates in two months and both were with you, Miss Granger," he said. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. His lightweight banter and breezy attitude made her heart soar, until he said, "I do have a date tonight, though, so my dry spell is coming to an end."

She had no right to be jealous. She was unofficially dating Michael, and Draco didn't seem jealous in the least. She said, "Well, have a great time tonight." Her voice sounded so happy and carefree she wasn't even sure it was her speaking. She went to grab her bags and he unexpectedly picked up all three and started up her stairs. Hermione followed.

"Who's the lucky girl?" Hermione asked from behind him.

"No one important," he said.

He placed her bags by her door.

"Why date someone who isn't important?" Hermione asked sincerely.

He smiled and said, "I meant it's not important for you to know, since we aren't friends any longer."

She felt like he had slapped her in the face. She turned to her door to unlock it and said softly, "I'm still your friend."

He put his hand on her back, and she turned her head to look at him. He said, "That's not true, is it?" He removed his hand.

"Of course it is," she said softly.

"You're my friend, Hermione?" he asked steadily, smiling, and she thought a bit mockingly. He brought his hand up to her hair again, though there was no wind blowing inside the house. He stroked her hair from the crown of her head to her shoulder. Then his hand careened down her shoulder to her arm, then to her hand. He held her hand and she felt she could barely breathe.

"I'm your friend," she said, adding in her mind, 'and more.'

"Who's your date tonight?" he asked, letting go of her hand suddenly and leaning against the banister.

"Joe Mullins," she said, leaning against her closed door.

Draco had a funny look on his face and said, "Do I know this Joe chap?"

She smiled and said, "Yes, you save me from being sexually assaulted by his hot wax that night, remember?"

He chuckled and said, "Oh, that fellow." He wasn't worried about him. "I have an idea, since I'm having such a dry spell with women, tonight's date notwithstanding, why don't you fix me up with that female writer, since you won't fix her up with the male writer," Draco said.

"No, you aren't her type," Hermione said.

"Whose type am I?" he asked with a stupid grin on his face.

"I'm not sure, but I think Joe still has a bit of a crush on you," she said with a smile.

"Joe? How about you, do you still have a crush on me?"

"You never know, Draco Malfoy, you never know," she said, trying her hardest to keep the mood light, although inside she was screaming, 'I still love you, but I question your feelings for me!' She opened her door and to her surprise, he picked her bags back up and carried them in the flat.

His attentiveness to her was short lived. He placed the bags in her kitchen, petted Iggy's ears, and then said, "Well, I have a date to get ready for, and you have dinner to cook, so I'll see you this weekend perhaps. Maybe you would like to go to the Quidditch play-offs Saturday. I happen to have four tickets."

"I don't know if I know three other people to take on such short notice," she said.

He gave her the funniest look and said, "Sometimes your intelligence astounds me, and other times I think you are one of the most obtuse people I know."

Now she gave him a funny look. He continued by saying, "You will use one ticket, I will use one ticket, and I will find two other people to use the other two tickets."

"Are the tickets together?" she asked.

He laughed openly, knocked on her forehead with his fist, and said, "Hello, Hermione's brain, have you taken a holiday? Yes, Granger, the tickets are together. Don't worry, it won't be date, but since we're friends again, we can go to a Quidditch game together, can't we?"

"I'd like that," she said truthfully.

"I'll give you the details tomorrow," he said. He turned from her, smiled, and walked down the hallway to her living room. He stood by her door and said, "Ta, Granger. Have a nice night."

She would return his sentiment, but since he was having a date and it wasn't with her, she didn't want to wish him a good night so she just said, "Goodbye, Draco Malfoy."

Joe came over to her house, ate her food, and had to listen to her for four hours, drawl on and on about all her sorrows and regrets concerning her relationship with Michael and her lack of relationship with Draco. She even told him her triangle theory. Though he wanted to bang her head against the wall and tell her to stop being a ninny, he remained a faithful friend, listened to her woes, didn't belittle her once, and never once chastised her. It was hard, but he was a good listener. He grew up with ten sisters. TEN! If nothing else, he knew how to do a girl's hair, fix her makeup, and listen to man troubles. He was an expert. He listened to her with compassion and by the end of the night; he gave her a bit of advice.

"Can you really fault Draco for the insecurities in which you also now find yourself having? You're riddled with insecurities and unfounded fear. Forgive him and move on, Hermione. Forgive him and stop stringing Michael along. And then forgive me for telling you to shut up already."

Okay, maybe he wasn't very compassionate in the end.

Hermione stopped the evening short, not because she was angry about his advice, but because she was beginning to feel bad. Her lower abdomen hurt and she felt slightly nauseated.

Joe was on his way down the final flight of stairs when he saw Draco coming in the front doors with a very pretty blonde woman, though Joe thought she couldn't hold a candle to Hermione. He had his arm slung around the woman's neck and they were laughing.

Joe felt bad for telling Hermione to forgive the man since it appeared he was moving on by dating other women.

Draco looked up immediately, saw Joe, and removed his arm from around the woman's neck. "Hello," Draco said, walking to his front door.

"Yeah, sure," Joe said.

"Well, goodbye," Draco said as he ushered the woman quickly into his flat.

"Ah, Draco, may I have a word with you?" Joe asked.

Draco really wanted to say no, but he told the woman to wait for him in his flat, and then he shut the door, turned to Joe, and said, "What do you want?"

"Have you moved on? Do you no longer have feelings for Hermione?" Joe asked.

"I'm not sure that's your business," Draco said with ire.

"So you've given up on our girl?" Joe asked, thinking it most certainly was his business.

"Has she given up on me?" Draco asked directly.

Joe rolled his eyes and said, "Answer my question first, because depending on your response, I might have to go upstairs and give Hermione different advice then I gave her earlier."

Draco asked, "What advice did you give her?"

"Can't you answer a question?" Joe asked, his voice raising.

"Yes! Apparently I have moved on and so has she, since she has Corner now!" Draco spat.

"You know they haven't even slept together yet," Joe said.

Draco's heart soared, but he tried to remain uncaring and he said, "That's not my concern, just as my relationships aren't yours."

"So you have the blonde now, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I need to go up and tell my girl some new advice, because I told her she had to stop being in a triangle," Joe said and he stormed back upstairs.

Draco was aware that just a sentence ago the man called Hermione 'our girl' and he now said, 'my girl,' and he didn't like that. Hermione was still an 'our girl.' Draco watched the man fly up the stairs and said one word, "Triangle?"

In truth, Joe didn't have the heart to tell Hermione anything. He waited outside her door for a while and then went back downstairs, out the door, and disapparated home.

Around one in the morning, Hermione was on the sofa, still in pain, with a small trash bin by the side of the sofa since she had graduated from nausea to actual vomiting. Perhaps it was something she and Joe had eaten earlier.

Around 3 am, the pain was so unbearable that she was in tears and convinced it was more than food poisoning. She felt the need to go to St. Mungos, but she didn't want to bother any of her friends or family at that time of night, so she crawled off the couch, took her wand and went downstairs.

The wards in the house were such that a person could apparated anywhere in the house, but not inside or outside, so she would have to go out to the front stoop to disapparate to hospital.

She stumbled down the stairs with difficulty, and as she was on the last set of stairs, she saw Draco leave his flat, in only a robe, holding a woman's hand. The woman's shirt was on inside out, and she was holding her shoes in her hand.

Draco gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, said, "Thanks for the great night, love." He helped her with her coat, held open the first set of doors, and then the second set. He locked both sets of doors and walked back toward his front door when he spotted Hermione. She was bent over in apparent pain, but more than that, with devastating pain etched on her face at what she had just witnessed and what she must have rightfully assumed had occurred, and he felt horrible and embarrassed.

Well, he justified quickly in his mind, did she expect him to wait for her? He wasn't a saint like Corner. He couldn't wait for her forever. He gave her a set look, didn't say a word, and went back to his door. He walked inside and she continued down the stairs.

He turned back around once, saw that she was still hunched over in pain, and was whimpering. He saw that she had been crying. He walked out of his flat and pulled on her arm as she started out of the first set of doors.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said.

He could tell that was a lie. "I will ask once more and only once more, what's wrong, Hermione?"

"Will you help me to hospital?" she said meekly. The look she gave him was hard to decipher, but only one thing mattered. She needed him. Helping a woman to hospital was something a man did.

He said, "Can I change first? I'll be quick."

She nodded and went over to sit on the stairs. He ran in his flat, threw on some clothes and thought again, 'She needs me.'

* * *

_Coming up:_

_He held her hand as she lay in the bed. She opened her eyes. The first words out of her mouth were, "You stayed."_

"_Of course, isn't that what friends do?" he asked._

"_I guess," she said. _

"_When did things get messed up?" he asked. "Things were going well and then suddenly they got messed up and I don't even know what precipitated the confusion," he said. He shouldn't bother her with all of this when she was looking so small and ill, but he needed to know._

_She shut her eyes again and said…_


	17. 17 Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 17: Good Things Come to Those Who Wait:**

The phrase, "Good things come to those who wait," was originally an advertising phrase in the United Kingdom for a certain brand of Guinness. However, a phrase like that has a universal meaning. It means that if something is worthwhile, if something is worth its weight in gold, it is worth the wait. Draco Malfoy sat in the lobby of St Mungo's, surrounded by Hermione Granger's friends, family, and acquaintances (as he would classify Michael "the tosser" Corner), and he realized the force of that statement. Hermione Granger was worth the wait. The one single moment that brought him to that conclusion would forever stand out in his memory as both the best and the worst moment of the past year.

It was the one of the worst, because she was hurting and in pain and he was powerless to do anything about it. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy hated, it was the feeling of helplessness. He didn't often feel that way, and to feel it at her expense was even worse.

It was one of the best moments of his life because she still loved him, and he finally told her he loved her, too.

Mike Cooper walked up to Draco in the small, bare waiting room, sat next to him, patted his shoulder, and said a simple statement. "She's lucky to have you for a friend." Draco smiled. He wasn't sure luck had anything to do with it, nor was he sure that he was just her friend, but Mike's sentiment was touching just the same.

Draco said, "I think I'm the lucky one."

Then Mike turned to Draco and said, "I think you are, too. Just remember, be patient. Good things come to those who wait." Mike stood up, walked over to Lavender, and held her hand.

Draco remained where he sat, marveling at the fact that his friend had just said the very words aloud that Draco had just been thinking moments before. Either Mike was a seer, or Draco Malfoy was a smart man. It was probably the smart part.

When he first saw Hermione walking down the stairs tonight, he was embarrassed knowing that she had seen him with that woman. He knew she would know that they had slept together. He felt remorse, he really did, but it was water under the bridge. He couldn't change it even if he wanted to, so instead, he just looked at Hermione and then headed back to his flat. However, as he turned back around, he knew something was wrong.

When he turned back to her and he saw that she was in pain and that she had been crying, he pulled on her arm as she started out of the first set of doors and asked, "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Nothing," she said.

"I will ask once more and only once more, what's wrong, Hermione?"

"Will you help me to hospital?" she said meekly.

"Can I change first? I'll be quick."

She nodded and went over to sit on the stairs. He was back out to her in a flash. He took her hand and helped her to stand. As soon as she stood, she cried out and bent back over in pain. He didn't know what was wrong, but he felt something he had never felt before. It was an emotion he couldn't describe or put into simple words. If he tried to interpret it, he would have to say it was fear, but fear didn't even describe it accurately. Concern wasn't a strong enough word. He scooped her into his arms, fumbled with the doors, and once outside disapparated them to the lobby of the wizarding hospital.

He sat her on a hard, orange chair, which looked like it belonged in another decade, and went up to the information desk. She saw him speaking animatedly to the young wizard at the desk. She saw him point toward her. She saw him bang on the counter. She saw him throw a handful of galleons at the man's chest, which undoubtedly hurt. He came back to her, held one hand, sat beside her and said, "They don't take bribes here, apparently. They said we would have to wait like everyone else. Are you going to be okay?"

She could only continue to whimper. She tried to nod yes, but even that came off as feeble. Draco decided to face the situation the best way he could. He ran back up to the desk and started to curse at the man at the counter. The man pushed a clipboard with forms on it toward Draco.

Draco came back over with the clipboard and a quill and began to fill out the form for her, the whole time complaining. "Apparently the wizard with his eye hanging out of its socket was here before you and is a bit more important." He scribbled on the parchment some more and said, "I mean my family gives millions," he stood up, looked at the man behind the counter and reiterated, "MILLIONS of galleons," he sat back down, "a year to the fucking place and they think you should wait because some stupid wizard's eyeball is hanging out." The man with the eye injury looked over at Draco, with his one good eye, and Draco said, "That's right; I'm talking about you, blinky!"

Draco continued filling out the form and said, "What does your middle name have to do with anything?" Hermione leaned over to look at the form. He scrawled down her middle name.

"My middle name is Jean."

"I always thought it was Jane," he said.

"That's a common mistake, but it's Jean."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She winced. He scratched out Jane and put Jean overtop of it. He said, "We are wizards! We shouldn't have the same healthcare problems Muggles have!" He answered some more questions and said, "For Merlin's sake, what does her mother's maiden name have to do with anything?" He made up a name and continued.

"How much does she weigh? Why the hell do they need to know that? Do they charge by the pound?" Write. Write. Scribble. Scribble.

"For goodness sakes, I hardly think her past medical history is relevant!" He scratched hard on the piece of parchment.

"MERLIN! They'll want to know your favourite colour next!" He threw the clipboard on the floor and ran back up to the desk. It didn't matter, for at that moment a very nice man in a wheelchair came out to the lobby, collected Hermione (as the eyeball guy continued to look on, so to speak), and took her to a little room.

Draco was right on their wheels.

He had to wait in the hall as she changed to a gown. A Healer walked in and Draco followed. No one asked him to leave, so he stayed.

The Healer took his wand and began to move it back and forth over Hermione. "When did the pain start?"

"Earlier this evening," she told the man.

Draco walked over to the side of the bed and interrupted with, "Why didn't you come and get me earlier?"

She just gave him a pleading look and then looked back toward the Healer.

"What are your other's symptoms?" the Healer asked.

"Vomiting and nausea," she said.

"You should have come and got me," Draco said again. She tried to ignore him as the Healer asked more questions.

"Is the pain mostly on the right side?" he asked.

"Yes," she barely said.

Draco said, "You know I would have brought you sooner."

"Can you straighten out your legs?" the Healer asked, giving Draco a scathing look.

Her knees were bent as she lay on her back, and she tried to straighten them, however, that simple act was more painful, so she said, "Not really."

Draco leaned down to her, placed his hand on the top of her head, stroked her hair, and said, "Even if we can't describe what we are to each other, we're still friends, you said so yourself, earlier. You should know that you could count on me. You should have told me."

Hermione gave him a pleading look and looked back to the Healer so he could continue.

The man said, "I need to do a few more tests, but I'm fairly certain it's appendicitis. We'll probably need to remove the appendix, and then you'll feel much better. It's a very simple operation, and be thankful you're a witch, Miss Granger, because it won't even be invasive. You'll be able to go home tomorrow." He patted her hand and said, "I'll be right back and I will get you some potion for the pain."

Draco put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, leaned down again, and without thought or reason, kissed her forehead. "Really, why didn't you come get me?"

"OH MY GOSH, DRACO MALFOY!" she practically shouted. "You're acting insane! Not everything is about you, and besides, you made it clear that you had a date tonight, and I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to bother anyone, so I was just going to bring myself."

"Well, that's silly," Draco said.

"Good thing though, huh?" she said with a grimace. "I think I would have spoiled more than just a date. Your dry spell is officially over, right?"

He had no clue what he should say to her. He knew she had already deduced that he had slept with that other witch, but he didn't want to admit it aloud, and he wasn't sure why. After all, they were just friends right now, he and Hermione, so why should it matter who they slept with? Except, he knew it would matter if she slept with Corner. He would be hurt, angry, and jealous. Therefore, he could afford her the same reaction. The only difference was that he didn't care for that woman tonight. He honestly couldn't remember her name, so he was forced to call her 'love'. Hermione cared for Corner, so that would be different.

Draco couldn't tell her that, especially as she was in so much physical pain.

He never answered her question about the dry spell, it was rhetorical anyway, and it didn't matter because he had no time, as the Healer and a Medi-witch came back in the little room, gave her some potions, and then told Draco he should notify her family.

He hadn't even thought of that.

She seemed finally to be resting, and the pain medication must have been working, because for the first time since this started, she was no longer making a funny face. She had her eyes closed.

He leaned down and whispered, "I'm going to Floo Potter, and have him notify your parents, and then I will Floo Mike and Lavender, and your friend Joe. Is there anyone else you want me to tell?" He thought, 'please don't say Michael 'the idiot' Corner.'

She didn't. She didn't say anything. Hell, Draco could play fair. He would notify Michael 'the ponce' Corner. Who cares?

He went and did just that and arrived back to her room in time for the Healer to say, "You have a few minutes with her and then you must tell her goodbye for now, because we're taking her to another room to perform the spell for the operation."

Draco walked up to her and held her hand as she lay in the bed. She opened her eyes. The first words out of her mouth were, "You stayed."

"Of course, isn't that what friends do?" he asked.

"I guess," she said.

"When did things get messed up?" he asked. "Things were going well and then suddenly they got messed up and I don't even know what precipitated the confusion," he said. He shouldn't bother her with all of this when she was looking so small and ill, but he needed to know. "We both wanted to be more than friends, but not at the same time, and now, I just hope it's not too late."

She closed her eyes again, the medication making her sleepy, and said, "It's not too late. It's never too late. Someday we'll be on the same page and at the same point in our lives. I just hope it's soon."

His heart soared. She still loved him. She might not have said the words, but the sentiment was there. He never really doubted that, but it was nice to hear it all the same. Now, it was time to tell her how he felt. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her hand as he held it and said, "That's the thing, Hermione. I wanted to tell you something at the wedding reception, but once again, I chickened out, and you made my angry, and I acted like a fool. Now weeks have passed by, and we act as if we barely know each other, and sometimes I fear I've missed my chance, but now that you tell me it's not too late, I have the courage to say what I wanted to say."

"Before you do," she said with her eyes still closed. "Did you sleep with that woman tonight?"

"Yes," he said. What was he supposed to say?

"Do you care for her?" she said. She managed to open her eyes, though she could not remember a time when she felt more tired.

"I don't even remember her name, so no, I don't care for her," Draco reasoned.

"I haven't slept with Michael. I want you to know that. Now, what were you going to say?" she asked, barely opening her eyes. Before he could answer, she said, "I'm so tired."

The Healer came back in and said, "That's right, Miss Granger. Just go to sleep and when you wake up, you'll feel better and everything will be alright." He smiled at Draco and said, "You can wait in the lobby for her."

Letting go of her hand, Draco moved aside as the man levitated her body toward another room, and watched her go away from him, but he didn't want it to be too late, so he walked along with them as far as he could, and even if she didn't hear him he had to tell her what he felt. He said, "I was going to tell you that I love you." Then she disappeared through a set of double doors. He leaned against the wall.

Too bad, she was asleep and couldn't hear his declaration of love. He looked up and saw Potter walking toward him with two middle-aged people who must be her parents. He put a hand in his hair, and felt frustrated, tired, and anxious, and most of all, he felt as if it really was too late, no matter what she said.

He turned around and saw Michael 'the arsehole' Corner standing behind him, mouth slightly agape. Michael said, "You love her?"

"Yes, I do," Draco said, offering it as almost a challenge.

"I do, too," Michael said plainly. He passed Draco and went to the lobby.

They all sat in the lobby together, not saying a word to one another. It was dawn, and Draco was very tired. He stretched out his long legs and put his arms behind his head. He was just about to shut his eyes when the Healer came out to the lobby.

Everyone stood up at once. The Healer actually laughed, put both hands out in front of him and said, "She's fine. Her appendix burst, so we will keep her here all today, and she can go home tomorrow morning. She very tired, but she wants to see her parents and then she said she wanted to see her landlord," he said with a chuckle, "is he here?"

"That's me," Draco said, holding up his hand. He felt confused. Had he gone from future husband, to possible boyfriend, to friend, to now just being her landlord? When did all of that occur? At least she wanted to see him.

Her parents left with the Healer and Draco sat back down. The silence among the small crowd in the waiting room was deafening. When a Medi-witch came to get Draco, Michael stood up and said, "Tell her the rest of us hopes she feels better soon."

Draco saw the look of true concern on the man's face, so he nodded. He followed the witch down a long corridor, watching the green and brown tile floor as he walked along. When they reached a brown door, the woman said, "Just a few minutes, okay?"

Draco opened the door slowly, and poked his head inside. She appeared to be sleeping. He walked over to her and reached out his hand, only to draw it back. He smoothed her blanket, and then reached his hand out to her face again, running just the tips of his fingers down her face from her hair to her jaw. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Hermione, I hate to tell you this," he said, "but the rent is due."

She opened her eyes and saw a smiling Draco Malfoy. "Hi, Draco Malfoy."

"You said you wanted to see your landlord, so here I am," he said, smiling.

She smiled, a sad pathetic smile in his opinion, but he would forgive that since she had just had surgery. She said, "My mind was still muddled when I asked for my landlord. I think I forgot your name, sorry about that."

"Do you have the rent on you, by the way, because I'm running short at the moment," he joked, leaning down so that his face was close to hers. He said, "Shall I frisk you? Shall I turn out your pockets?"

"This gown doesn't have pockets," she said quite seriously.

"Where do you keep your keys, then?" he joked. He pulled a chair close to her bed, so he could sit next to it, his arm leaning against the side of her body.

"I keep my keys in my pockets," she said.

He laughed because she wasn't making any sense, so he asked again, "Are there pockets in these gowns?"

"There was when I put the rent there. If they aren't there now, you're out of luck," she said back. She closed her eyes again.

He laughed and said, "I'll ask again, should I search for the pockets?"

"Maybe when I feel better," she said back.

"It's a date," he said. He placed his left arm over her left arm, placing his hand on her shoulder, and leaned his cheek against his arm. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. She reached over with her right hand, since he had her left arm trapped under his and his head, and she stroked his hair.

"I would like to go on another date with you," she said seriously, "even if it's just to search for pockets and rent money."

He loved the way her hand felt in his hair. He wondered if he should tell her he loved her right now. Would she remember it if he did? Her hand stopped moving. He reached up for it and removed it from his hair. He placed it on her chest, which was rising and falling at a steady pace, and her eyes closed. She was sleeping. He stood again, leaned forward and this time planted a small kiss on her lips. He placed his warm cheek next to her cold cheek and said, "I'll look in on your cat."

Not quite an 'I love you,' was it?

Hermione opened her eyes, smiled, and said, "Thank you, if you had a cat, I would look in on it, too."

He chucked and said, "I really will look in on Iggy, but that's not what I was going to say." He cupped her cheek, though her eyes were once again closed, and he said, "I love you, Hermione, I really do."

She had drifted back off to sleep, so he had no idea of she had heard him or not. He wanted to shake her by the shoulders, tell her to wake up and ask her what she thought about that statement. In fact, he really thought he might do just that, except at that moment, the Medi-witch reentered the room and told him he had to go.

He picked up her hand, kissed the top, and placed it back on the bed. He said aloud, "I can wait."

He turned to leave and she said, "Draco?"

He turned back.

She shut her eyes again. He imagined that she was going to say, "I love you, too." That would have been nice. Instead, she just said his name.

He smiled and walked out of the room. Of course, she still loved him. He was Draco Malfoy, and good things came to those who waited.

Michael Corner sat alone in the waiting room for many hours. Her friends and loved ones had all left. He finally decided to go see her. He was going to wish her luck and tell her goodbye. She hadn't even asked to see him. It was apparent to him that she still loved Draco. He would concede. He didn't want to, and he didn't think Draco was good enough for her, nor would he be good to her, but her happiness was all that mattered. If she loved Draco, she could have him.

He opened the door to her room quietly. She was sleeping on the bed, and rays of sunlight were coming from the partially closed curtains, bathing her body in the streaks of light. He tiptoed over to the window, and tried to shut the curtains so the light from sun wouldn't wake her.

He heard, "Hi, Michael."

He turned to face her. "Do you want me to open the curtains, or keep them closed?"

"Open them, please. What time is it?" she asked. He opened the curtains, and turned to face her.

He was going to say, "Time for me to leave," but inside he thought, "Time for all good men to go to war." Why should he give up on Hermione? She never gave up on Draco. She loved him, and never gave up. He loved her as much as she loved Draco. Why should he give up to a man who couldn't even tell Hermione he loved her to her face?

He sat on the side of her bed and held her hand. He brought it up to his mouth and said, "Hermione, I know this isn't the time or place, but I have something to tell you. I love you. I really do. I know you love Draco, or you think you do, but you don't really even know him. You haven't even dated him. You know nothing of his true character. You know nothing of his intentions."

"I think you and I have begun to know each other very well, and I know I can make you happy. I know we would be a great match, and could really love each other, if you would just open your heart and mind to me." He caressed her face.

"Oh, Michael," she said, and then didn't say anything more. She knew his anguish and agony, because the unrequited love that he felt for her was the duplicate feeling in which she had felt for Draco for so long. No one knew his pain more than she, but empathy wasn't a reason to love someone.

"Listen to me, just for a moment," he said, leaning his face closer. "I think in his own way, Draco does care for you. I even heard him tell you that he loved you, but only when you were unconscious. He can't tell you to your face. I'm here, before you, laying it all on the line, baring my soul and my dignity, not caring if you return my love, and in broad daylight, while you're wide awake, I'm telling you that I love you."

Neither of them saw that the door to her room had opened. However, both Hermione and Michael looked over toward the door when they heard Draco Malfoy clear his throat. He stood in the doorway, a bouquet of roses in his hand, and he was frowning.

Michael looked back to Hermione, ignoring Draco and he said, "I would never hurt you. I would never take you for granted. I love you, Hermione. I want to marry you."

She looked from Draco to Michael and began to cry. She placed her hand over her face.

"Get out of here, Corner," Draco said. "You're upsetting her."

Michael stood up and said, "I'm telling her the truth. I'm telling her there's more to life than just loving someone who can't even muster the courage to tell you that they love you back. I'm telling her to take a chance on something real, not on something far-fetched and fake. There has to be more to love and life than what you have to offer her, Malfoy."

Hermione cried harder.

Michael let go of her hand and crossed over to Draco. "She's awake now, Malfoy. Tell her you love her now, in the light of day!"

"I won't say a damn thing with you in here," Draco said.

"Why? I'm not ashamed to say it in front of you!" Michael shouted.

Hermione looked over at Draco and said, "Draco?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't have to explain anything to you, Corner." He looked at Hermione, begging her with his eyes to understand.

She said, "Draco, I know it's hard to go from being friends to being more, even though you know in your heart it's the right thing to do. I know it's difficult to go further, because friendship is reassuring and real, but Draco, you have to make a choice and you have to take a chance. If you love me, you have to let me know, because I'm dying inside. I know you're worried that if something breaks between us that our relationship as friends will end, but you're worrying about an ending before a beginning starts. Just tell me, do you love me? Don't make me beg."

He walked past Corner, threw the flowers on the end of her bed, took her hand and said, "I know how I feel about you, Hermione, but I don't need to announce it to the world, I really don't. What I feel is between you and me."

Michael walked to the door and said, "That's the difference, Hermione. That's what you have to consider. The fact that one of us loves you and would shout it from the rooftops, and the fact that the other may or may not love you, because he's afraid to say the words in a room of three people, one of them himself, and one the person he supposedly loves. Yes, think about that, Hermione. I'll leave you be." He walked out the door, satisfied that Draco Malfoy may just have convinced her who was the right man for her, and it wasn't Draco.

Draco continued to stand by the bed. Hermione turned her face from him and looked at the wall. He decided something. If good things came to those who wait, then hadn't Hermione waited long enough?

He ran out of the room and grabbed Michael's arm. The man looked shocked. Draco practically dragged him back into her room. Hermione looked over at them as they entered her door.

Draco said, "I love you, Hermione."

She smiled, Michael frowned, and Draco Malfoy felt he got in the last word when a smirk of satisfaction graced his face. He loved her. That was enough said.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_Why are you smiling?" she asked quietly. _

_He leaned over her face, kissed her lips again and said, "Because we are about to make love, and I've never done that before."_

"_You are not a virgin," she said. She couldn't help but smile. _

"_Believe me, I'm no virgin, but I have never __**made love**__ to a woman before, Hermione, so this is a monumental occasion, so let me smile, okay?"_


	18. 18 Jane Austen Sucks

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 18: Jane Austen Sucks:**

All hopeless romantics love Jane Austen novels and the main reason is that all women want a good husband. It doesn't matter if they're rich, poor, fat or thin. Their race, creed or religion doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if they're an independent woman of self-sufficient means. It doesn't matter their age. If they're a female, between the ages of 10 and 100, they want a husband. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, somehow and someway, they want a husband. If they say they don't, they are either lying, or gay, (and even then, they may still want a husband, but in the form of a wife.)

The opening line of "Pride and Prejudice" is wrong. It states, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." WRONG! Jane Austen sucks big time, because if she had been honest, she would have written, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman wants a husband of good fortune." Damn Mr. Darcy! He spoiled everything. How could women not want their own Mr. Darcy? It didn't help matters that Colin Firth, who played him on the telly, was a handsome little bugger, either.

Hermione was a normal woman. She had normal needs, wants, and ambitions. She wanted happiness, money, independence, and by golly, a husband. Did that make her wrong? Did that mean she was any less of a woman? She wasn't some simpering, helpless woman from 1813. She was a modern woman of her own means, of her own good fortune, and truth be known, she wanted a husband, and she wanted him to be Draco Malfoy.

She wanted him to be tall, handsome, blonde, smart, ambitious and intellectual. A person could be smart and not be able to hold a decent conversation about intellectual topics, hence the reason to mention smart and intellectual. She wanted someone who would hold her hand, tell her funny stories, and who would be a great father.

And unfortunately, she found out that wasn't Draco Malfoy, no matter how much she wanted it to be. He wasn't in want of a wife apparently, and she just found that out, and damn it all to hell, that single piece of information broke her heart in two!

After Hermione's appendectomy, she decided to take a few days off work. She hadn't taken any substantial time off work in three years, and she was due. Her mother spent the first two days with her, taking care of her, mothering and smothering her. Thankfully, she had to get back to work herself, so Hermione was all alone and loving every minute of it.

She hadn't seen Michael since Draco's declaration of love. She hated that she had hurt him. She had never intended to, and she had never proclaimed any feelings toward him, but she still felt sad and guilty and every other word in between. Lavender told Hermione that Mike had told Lavender that Michael was depressed. Hermione wanted to go talk to him, but Lavender thought that would make him feel worse.

Then there was Draco. He told her he loved her, and then she had only seen him twice in the two days since she had been home from the hospital. He had to go out of the country on business. She wanted to discuss their 'relationship', and as soon as he returned, she was determined to do so.

Presently, she was curled up on her couch, writing in a Muggle notebook her current article for the Prophet. The article was about how dreams could come true, if a person persevered. It was titled, "How to Find your Prince Charming Among the Frogs and Get him to Make you his Princess." Then in parenthesis she wrote, "I mean marriage, ladies." Hermione knew it was a bit premature to consider Draco her 'Prince Charming' and it was excessively early to start picking out china patterns, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

She wrote about the euphoric feeling a woman had when the man she loved finally loved her back. Draco Malfoy finally loved her, and no one could take that away from her. She loved Draco Malfoy and he loved her. Case closed. They were finally at the same spot at the same time and it felt glorious.

The day she came home from hospital was the same day he left for business, but he was attentive and sweet to her before he left, and dare she think it…but he was loving toward her. She was almost afraid she would wake up and the dream would end.

She couldn't let her heart break again, because if it broke again, it would shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together, so she wanted to tread with care and caution. She wouldn't get her hopes up. Just because she was imagining what their kids would look like someday didn't mean she was desperate or anything.

If he did break her heart, she would be very miffed indeed.

There was a knock on her door, but before she could scoot off the couch to answer, Draco opened the door and poked his head in, smiled at her and waved. Her smile at the sight of him lit up the entire room. He smiled again, and his smile was bright and beaming. Draco Malfoy loved her, so who wouldn't smile at that.

"Hello, Hermione, are you alone?" he asked. He had one hand behind his back.

"Yes, I'm alone," she said. She wanted him to come over and give her a kiss. "What's behind your back?" She placed her notebook on the side table and started to stand.

"Stay where you are, missy," he said. He leaned down, cupped her cheek with his free hand, and kissed her lips lightly. That's what she wanted.

He sat down on the couch, one hand still behind his back. "What's behind your back?" she asked again.

"A surprise," he said.

"For me?" she asked.

"Well, it's not for the cat," he said back.

"Give me my surprise, please." She held out her hand.

He leaned over and offered her his cheek.

She slapped it lightly.

"Kiss it Granger, don't slap it, as payment for your surprise," he said.

"Oh," she feigned ignorance. He leaned over again and she kissed his cheek.

"Now, are you sure your mum is gone," he asked.

"Why, is it something naughty?" she asked.

He laughed and said, "We might have very different views on what's naughty and what's not. You, my dear, are known for being a bit of a prude."

"Is it naked picture of you?" she asked, leaning away from him, with complete seriousness.

"The first time you see me naked will be in person, not in a picture," he said with mocked annoyance.

"I've already seen you naked, the day you fell in your bathroom," she reminded him. "Is it a sex toy?" she asked hesitantly.

He glared at her.

"Is it a naked picture of you with a sex toy?" she asked with a smile.

"You're hopeless," he said. She leaned forward and tried to reach behind his back. He pushed her away gently with his free hand. "While I like nothing better than to have your body pressed against mine, this is not the time or place." She leaned away from him and raised one eyebrow.

"Correction," he said, smiling. "It's always the time and this is as good of place as any, but we're discussing my surprise at the moment." He snaked his free arm around her waist, pulling her back toward him.

"No sex until we have at least one successful date where you don't tell me you want to be friends, you don't get drunk, or cut your hand, or act like a prat," she said, pushing against his chest.

"That's not likely to happen," he said. "You know, I have a reputation to uphold, and you're in serious danger of ruining it by not sleeping with me. Usually I sleep with the woman after date one or two."

She sighed. "May I have my surprise now?"

"I knew if I mentioned sex you would change the subject. What's the matter, Hermione, don't you like sex?" he asked. He skimmed his nose up her jaw line, to her ear, and kissed her neck. She shivered.

"I like it," she said.

"I do, too," he said. "And you were right, it is a toy."

She leaned away and her eyes grew wide. He laughed. She said, "Fine, give me my sex toy."

He laughed, let her go and said, "I knew that good girl image was just that, an image."

"GIVE ME MY PRESENT!" she shouted.

He told her to shut her eyes and hold out her hand. She did and he placed a small, furry, grey, toy mouse in her hand.

She opened her hand and said, "Are you kidding me? What kind of sex toy is this?"

"Haven't you ever heard of 'find the furry mouse'?" he asked. He took the mouse from her outstretched hand and said, "It's for Iggy, you pervert." He called out to Iggy, who was in his favourite chair. Draco threw the mouse across the room. Iggy followed it with his eyes, looked back at Draco, gave him a look of utter disdain, and placed his little face back on his paws and closed his eyes again.

"Ingrate," Draco said.

"If you give me a present, I'll chase it across the room," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Is that all I am to you? A giver of presents?' he asked.

"So far you're not even that," she reminded him. She leaned against the sofa again and grabbed her notebook. She said, "Some boyfriend you are," as she opened the notebook back up and began to write.

He smiled. He liked being called her boyfriend. He pushed her shoulder and said, "Ah, Granger called me her boyfriend. How sweet. And, I do have a present for you. We're going away this weekend, and we might even have sex!" He took her notebook from her and shut it tight. "Do you like your present?"

"I've had better," she said. She took the notebook back. She didn't want him to become curious and open it or anything.

"You're both ingrates," he said. He rose from the couch and said, "I'm going to make some tea, come along and keep me company." He pulled on her arm and pulled her to the kitchen. He started the kettle and actually picked her up and sat her on the counter.

She placed her notebook behind her and said, "Why are we going out of town this weekend? Is it a special occasion or something?" She added in her mind, 'like a marriage proposal'. She knew it was too soon for that, but she could have her dreams.

"How about a wedding, is that special enough for you?" he asked.

She was speechless. He poured the water in the steeper and placed the infuser in the teapot. He looked up at her and said, "Is something wrong, Hermione? Are you feeling ill again?"

"A wedding?" she asked. She hopped off the counter. He wasn't serious, was he? Did he mean to marry her before they actually dated?

"You haven't heard have you?" he asked.

He ignored her blank expression as he poured the tea into two cups and said, "Yes, Lavender and Mike have pushed their wedding up by four months, from July to March."

"Lavender and Mike?" she asked, her brain no longer numb.

"Yes," he said. He sat at the table and pulled on her hand so that she sat on his lap.

She placed her hands around her cup and asked, "Why?" She looked into the brown clear liquid and tried to settle her heart. Of course, he wasn't talking about marrying her, for goodness sakes. He just realized he loved her a few days ago.

"They moved the wedding up four months because she's three months pregnant," he said with a chuckle.

She turned around in his lap slightly and said, "What did you say?"

"Apparently some people have sex before marriage, can you imagine?" he asked with a grin.

Hermione stood from his lap and said, "PREGNANT! Why didn't she tell me?"

"No clue," he said, "Except Mike did tell me not to tell you until Lavender told you or some such rubbish. She apparently thought you would judge her and chastise her for not using birth control. She said she's heard enough about it from her parents, and she didn't need it from you."

Hermione felt hurt by that statement. She would have been supportive! She wouldn't have judged! She would have been…hell, she didn't know what she would have been but she knew what she was…she was jealous! That's what she really was, but Lavender wouldn't have known that, and she couldn't tell Draco that. She walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, to lie on her side on her bed.

Draco came walking in the room with her cup of tea in one hand and her notebook in the other. He set her tea on the bedside table and started to leaf through the notebook. She grabbed the notebook, placed it under her pillow and said, "Wow, a baby." 'I want a baby,' she thought.

"I know, isn't that insane?" Draco asked. He kicked off his shoes and placed his body behind hers. He pulled her close to him and said, "Why in the hell they would want to ruin their lives by even getting married is beyond me, but a baby, well, they might as well kiss their freedom and all their good times goodbye."

Hermione turned to her back and looked over at him. His eyes were shut. She said, "Do you really think that?"

"Damn straight, I do." He yawned. "I'm tuckered. Do you think you could wake me in an hour or so and then perhaps we could go on at least one successful date, if you are up to it tonight?"

"Sure, get some sleep," she said. She turned to face him. With his eyes still closed, he took her hand and kissed her palm.

He opened his eyes again and said, "Having a baby is going to ruin everything they wanted and planned. They were going to travel, he was going to start that adventure club and now they'll be saddled with a bawling infant with a dirty nappy. How absurd. I suppose it's too late to do anything about it now."

Hermione merely repeated, "Yeah, too late."

"I know one thing, I'm not that stupid. I know how babies are made, thanks to my old man and an awkward little speech he gave me when I was twelve. You won't catch me making such a stupid mistake."

She closed her eyes and said softly, "You don't want to have children, Draco?"

"Goodness, no," he said with a slight laugh. "How about you?"

"No way," she lied. "That would spoil everything." She wanted to cry.

"And to think, marriage and a baby, gee, they're so stupid," he said, closing his eyes again.

"Stupid," was all she could say. She felt like she was the stupid one.

She waited until he slept and then she moved his arm from around her waist and pulled her notebook out from under her pillow. She walked down the hall and sat at the dining room table. She pulled out her article, and balled it in her fist and threw it on the floor. So much for marrying her Prince Charming. She then turned several pages and laughed at the juvenile words she saw written there.

As if she were a thirteen year old girl, in love with her first crush, she had written all over the page, Mrs. Hermione Granger, Mrs. Hermione Granger – Malfoy, Mrs. Draco Malfoy, (that one was crossed out because she never wanted to be known by her husband's first name). She wrote 'Hermione Malfoy' in a heart. She wrote it in cursive, in calligraphy, in block letters, in pink ink, in purple ink, and all over the page. She tore this page out as well, and balled it in her fist and threw it across the dining room table. It stopped at the edge of the table before it hit the floor.

With determination, she started a new article. She wrote a large title across the top of the page. She wrote, "What Should you do When you Want to Get Married and the Man you Love Thinks it's a Fate Worse than Death?" It was a long title, but apropos.

She wrote for an hour, but stopped. The article was well written, had humor and a biting wit, and she felt it was full of shite. She closed the notebook and left it on the table, and then crept back in the bedroom. She sat on the bed and moved his hair away from his face. She would be content with being in love for now. She would be! She would! She didn't need marriage, did she? Michael wanted to marry her. That thought came to her quickly, but she pushed it aside. She leaned over Draco and kissed his forehead.

He opened his eyes and pulled her over to him.

She fell on her side to face him and put one hand on his face and stroked his cheek. Her hand went down to the front of his shirt, where the other joined it. She nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, and then moved her hands to his chest, moving the shirt to his shoulders. Her hands traveled to his shoulders, and he sat up so she could remove the shirt from his body. She threw it on the floor. He said, "Are you recovered?"

"If not, this will be just what I need to heal me forever," she said as she leaned over and kissed his lips sweetly. He went back to his back, and she pulled her shirt over her head. She remained half sitting, half leaning, over his body. His hands went to her bra-covered breasts and he placed them on her, his thumbs rubbing her nipples to hard points. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. He forced her to her back.

"You're everything I want you to be," he said. She could argue that point. She could say, 'except your wife,' but why ruin the moment?

He now leaned over her and he kissed her neck, her shoulder, and then back to the neck. He put his arms around her body and kissed her mouth, gently, but with meaning.

She pushed him away and said, "This will change things, you know."

He laughed and said, "For the better, I hope."

She hoped so, too, but she wasn't so sure.

Draco placed one hand on one breast and handled it slowly, as if it were precious to him. Hermione closed her eyes. He loved that just a simple touch to her breast could cause this reaction. He moved his hand to her stomach, then her side, then her hip. She had on pajama pants. He leaned down, kissed her stomach, and then pulled the pants down her legs. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. It might have been awkward, but he stared at her bare breasts for many long moments. He reached out and touched first one and then the other. He cupped one, feeling the weight under his hand and then he touched the point, which became erect. He lowered his mouth and kissed between her breasts, and placed his ear on her heartbeat, which was beating erratically, just as his was.

While on his knees by her body, he moved so he was over her and he moved his hands up and down her legs.

Hermione turned slightly so she was facing him and placed her hand on his chest. She leaned forward and kissed him profoundly, intensely, and with all the love that she felt. She pushed him onto his back and leaned over him, kissing him all over, his face, neck and chest. His hands roamed up and down her back. The feel of her soft bare breasts against his chest made all the blood in his body go directly to one body part, and the desire he felt was overwhelming.

He pushed her back off him and stood to remove the remainder of his clothing. He climbed on the bed beside her and put his hand on her stomach. Leaning over her, he kissed one breast, and then the other, moving back and forth from one to the other. He looked at her face, fleetingly, and her head was tilting to one side and her eyes opened, and she looked directly into his eyes and he smiled. He had never had a woman look at him like this while making love.

Oh wait, he had never made love to a woman before. He had only had sex. He was aware there were subtle differences, but never thought he would experience the differences first hand.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked quietly.

He leaned over her face, kissed her lips again and said, "Because we're about to make love, and I've never done that before."

"You are not a virgin," she said. She couldn't help but smile.

"Believe me, I'm no virgin, but I have never made love to a woman before, Hermione, so this is a monumental occasion, so let me smile, okay?"

"Smile away," she said. A tear rolled down her face, and she couldn't help it, because she felt overwhelmed. He loved her, so what if he never wanted to marry her? Wasn't his love the very thing she had been waiting for, wanting all along? Wasn't it enough?

He leaned over and kissed away the tear and said, "There's no reason to cry, just because I claim I've never made love before, I still know what I'm doing."

She laughed and put her hands on his face and said, "I love you."

"You better," he said back. He kissed her mouth, playing with her lips, lingering there for a long time, until her lips were swollen. He kissed his way down to her breasts again, tasting one, and putting as much of it in his mouth as he could. Hermione was growing wetter every second, with the prelude of what was to come.

He gave the second breast the attention it deserved. He kissed down her stomach, his hands holding her waist, his finger under her ribs.

He moved his fingertips down to the top of her knickers, playfully placing his fingers under the elastic waistband. He put both thumbs in the leg holes, and pulled them down her thighs. She moved back and forth slightly as he did this. He could see a glistening of wetness, and he knew he wanted her more then ever, because it was all for him.

He kissed the top of her left thigh, across her hipbone. His tongue and mouth slid over her hip and across her stomach, to her other thigh, leaving a wet trail across her skin. She moaned, earning a desirable response from him, as he grew harder. He kissed the inside of her thigh, staying away from the center, as his left hand went up to her stomach, and found a breast. He teased the nipple again until it was harder than before.

His nimble fingers continued to touching places she longed to be touch, had longed to be touched by him for a long time.

Nevertheless, she need more. "Please, Draco," she said softly. "Make love to me."

He looked up at her and moved his body so that it was flat on top of hers. He said just as softly, "I would love to make love to you, Hermione. I have wanted nothing more for such a long time." He reached over her body, to the bedside table for his wand. He smiled and said, "Best not pull a Lavender and Mike." He smiled and said a contraception spell. Unbeknownst to him, he ruined the mood, because it brought everything back to her.

He didn't want to get married.

Maybe never.

He said he couldn't picture himself with children.

He didn't want to 'pull a Lavender and Mike.'

She tried to block all of those thoughts from her mind and concentrate on making love. It was easy when he leaned over and kissed her neck, as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He kissed her mouth again, differently this time, because pent up passion was emerging, and it scared him and it scared her but it was fantastic!

Desire coursed threw him and as his fingers finally traveled between her legs. He played with her, lightly, just at the top, not entering her with his finger, not yet. His mouth was still on her mouth and she opened her legs slightly, and raised one knee. He moved his body between her legs, and he removed his hand and glided gracefully into her. As they started moving in a harmonized progression, Hermione's hands continued to caress his shoulders and back, in a soothing movement, which he found more alluring than he could ever describe. With each stroke inside her, he would come back and kiss her mouth. He found kissing her, while making love, to be one of the most intimate things he had ever done.

She was tight and wet and he never imagined it could feel like this. The enthusiasm he felt was equivalent to the adoration and love he felt, and as he was making love to her he wondered how he could love someone so much, without even knowing them that well.

He continued moving inside her, and she hardly made a sound except that her breathing became faster and her hands moved from his shoulder and she placed them over her head. She moved her legs up over his body, to bring him closer. He was up on his arms, moving in time with her. He looked in her eyes and he only saw love, and as simplistic as it sounded, he thought, 'wow, I really love this woman.'

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, to see that she had closed hers. Her hands came back to his shoulders, clutching them tightly. And she said his name over and over and over. She was clenching her inner walls, and her legs had moved from his hips and were trembling. She was starting to crest, but he was not ready for it to be over so soon. He continued to move, but slower, to slower her descent. He wanted to hold off his own climax as long as he could. When he could tell she was finally at the point of no return, he quickened the pace and with just several long strokes he let go and he screamed out, and the thing was, Draco Malfoy had NEVER screamed out like that before. He had moaned, groaned, cursed, shouted and the like before, but he had never screamed. He didn't even know what in the hell he screamed. He just screamed out, perhaps her name, he wasn't sure.

It ended. It was over. They lay beside each other without speaking or moving for a very long time, each merely trying to catch their breath, Draco feeling as if he had swam the English Channel, all 565 kilometers, Hermione as if she had run a marathon, and they had both won.

He finally moved. His hand reached over to rest on her stomach, and he pulled her closer. She moved to her side and put her hand on his chest, with her head on his shoulder. He placed his arms tightly around her and said, "I really think this whole love thing was an excellent idea. I'm glad I finally conceded."

She said, "Ha." It was a lackluster response, but it was the best she could muster under the circumstances, because for some odd reason, she still felt close to tears.

He sat up and looked down at her. Eyes closed, he wondered if she was sleeping. She was breathing steadily. He lay back beside her, on his side, and stroked her hair and face. He looked carefully at her. He wanted to commit to memory every single bit of her. He finally reached down and pulled up the covers, and brought her back over to his chest.

"Sleep, Hermione," he said in a whisper.

And she did. He couldn't sleep again if someone paid him. He kept her in his arms for as long as he could, but then he finally let her go, and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his jeans and padded to the dining room. He was in the mood to write. He knew she was working on her article when he came home tonight, and he wanted to see what she was working on, so he would know what to write in response. He opened her notebook and saw her article. The title alone intrigued him, and concerned him. He read most of it, frowning the entire time. He wondered what caused her to write it, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a balled up piece of paper on the edge of the table. He leaned forward and grabbed it. He smoothed it out and was shocked at all the different ways she had written her name. "Mrs. Hermione Malfoy," he read aloud.

God, he was a fool. He balled the paper back up and threw it on the floor. That was when he saw another piece of paper balled up on the floor. He climbed out of the chair and picked it up. It was the first article she had started. It was about love and marriage! He read it and then threw it back on the floor where she had placed it. He then went back to the table, tore the article she wrote about, 'loving the man who will never marry you,' out of the notebook as well and balled it up and threw it on the floor to join the other wayward pieces of paper. He picked up the Muggle pen and wrote down, "Don't give up your dream for anyone, Hermione. If you want to get married someday, you should do it, even if it's not with me." He tore that sheet out as well, balled it up, and threw it with the others.

He remembered what Michael Corner said to her in when she was in the hospital. He told her loved her and wanted to marry her. Draco banged his head on the table and said, "You are a fool, Draco Malfoy. A big, fat fool, and if you don't want to lose her, you better stop being fool!"

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_I don't want to lose her," Draco said._

_Harry said, "That's not a good enough reason, Malfoy. Gee, I would say that you two deserve each other, but I still happen to think she deserves better. The thing is, you're both misguided. She wants to get married just to get married. You want to get married so you won't lose her. How about love, you idiot?"_

"_What's love got to do with it, Potter?" Draco spat._


	19. 19 To be or Not to be

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 19: To Be or Not To Be, That's not the Question. The Question is Who Cares?**

The phrase "to be, or not to be," is one of the most famous of all of Shakespeare's quotes. It's from "Hamlet," Act III, Scene I, and in the soliloquy, the character questions his existence. Hermione thought it was a load of rubbish.

_To be, or not to be, that is the question,_

_Whether it is nobler of the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of _

_Outrageous fortune,_

_Or to take arms against the sea of troubles._

_And by opposing, end them: to die, to sleep no more,_

_And by sleep, to say we end the heartache,_

_And the thousand natural shocks that flesh is here, too?_

'_Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished._

_To die, to sleep, perchance to dream, I, there's the rub._

When Hermione was young, she memorized that entire speech. She loved the way the words flowed. She loved the questioning and the wondering, and the existentialism of that speech. Because what that little speech meant in its most simplistic terms is that, each individual is responsible for his or her own actions and their own destinies, so in a way, Shakespeare was the father of existentialism.

Now that she was older, she only had one thought about that whole speech. To be, or not to be, what a STUPID QUESTION! Now that she was older, she knew it was more than a mere, "to exist or not to exist" statement. It meant something more along the lines of "to be honest, or not to be honest," "to be true, or not to be true," "to marry Draco Malfoy someday, or not to marry Draco Malfoy someday." Didn't Shakespeare also write in the very same play, "This above all - To thine own self be true?"

Wasn't her original intention going into this chapter of her life to marry Draco Malfoy someday? Yes, that was the true question. Now, she had to be true to herself and to Draco, and admit as much.

She had a few hours before Draco was to pick her up for the weekend. They were all going to an Inn in the English countryside for Mike and Lavender's wedding tomorrow. She still hadn't been back to work since her surgery almost a week ago, so she was making up for lost time by editing some things at home. Lavender's recent article was a wreck, which was probably the result of Lavender's life right now. Hermione spent the better part of an hour changing and rearranging it. When she was done, she started work on her own article.

She decided to call it "To Thine Own Self Be True". She wrote that women shouldn't give up their dreams for men. If a woman wanted to be an astronaut, and their man wanted them to stay home and have babies, she should book the first rocket ship to the moon and tell the man goodbye. Likewise, if the woman wanted marriage, a home, children, and a career, and their man just wanted to live in a flat above them and have sex once in a while, they should say, "It's time to move on, so goodbye." Hermione wasn't quite ready to tell Draco Malfoy goodbye yet, since they had just said 'hello', but she wouldn't give up on her dream of having it all, and no one could make her. If she wanted a career, children, and a husband, and Draco proved that he would never want the same, she would, unfortunately, tell him goodbye, because there was no reason for her to settle for less. She had to be true to herself. She was the only her she had.

She finished her work and then went about packing for the weekend.

Draco knocked on her door that Friday afternoon, and when there was no answer, he let himself inside. He saw her luggage, but didn't see her. He called out her name and she called back, "Hark, who goes there?" She still had Shakespeare on her mind.

He smiled and walked down the hallway. She was in the bathroom brushing her hair. "Hark?" he asked from the doorway.

"I've been thinking about Shakespeare a lot today," she said with a smile. She placed her brush with her other toiletries in her overnight bag and zipped it up.

"Why is dear old Will on your mind?" Draco asked. He sat on the side of her tub.

"Oh, you know, just thinking about being or not being, thine own self be true, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." She reached over for his hand and sat next to him.

"What brought about this?" he asked. He laced his fingers in hers.

"The latest article from my little mystery writer," she said.

Draco wondered if she meant her or him, because he hadn't sent her an article for a week. "The man or woman?"

"The woman," she said. "Her latest article is about how Ophelia was a fool." Hermione laughed, because that wasn't what she wrote about, but it did seem appropriate. "Killing herself for some man, geesh," she added.

"He told her to get herself to a nunnery," Draco said, "Could he help it if instead she took her own life instead of taking his advice?"

"But to kill yourself for a man?" she asked.

"The whole lot of them was insane," he said, "Hamlet, his dear old dead ghost of a dad, his lecherous uncle, his incestuous mother, his cousins, his love, even Hamlet himself. Mad, mad, mad!"

Hermione giggled and said, "I know, seriously. It's not a very romantic play, is it?"

"Too much death and gore for me," Draco said. "I like the comedies, better. 'Taming of the Shrew,' for instance."

"You don't like the romantic ones?" she asked.

"I think it's romantic," he said. "It is a comedy of errors, but the men get the women in the end. You could be my shrew and I could tame you."

She gave him a strange look, and then stood up and picked up her bag and said, "That's all that matters, right? The men get the women in the end." She sighed and he frowned. He wondered what her mood was really attributed to, but he wouldn't ask right now.

"Where's your cat staying this weekend?" he asked.

"He's staying here by himself. I put out plenty of food and water, so he should be fine for the weekend. I'll leave the telly on for him, for company," she said, walking through the bathroom door toward the living room.

Draco picked up her bag and followed. "Does he like the telly?" he asked with a smile.

"He likes cooking shows," Hermione said with a laugh. Draco smiled and she said, "He really does." She found Iggy in his favourite chair, gave his nose a kiss, and then picked up her two suitcases.

"Do you have that okay?" Draco inquired, noticing she had the two big bags and he had the small one, and thinking it was funny.

"Sure," she said. She didn't notice. He walked over to her, took one of the bags from her, and walked out the door. She said, "Aren't you going to tell Iggy goodbye?"

"No, I don't tell cats goodbye," he said.

She said, "To love me is to love my cat, Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, I love him," he said with a very convincing look on his face, "I just don't want him to know about my feelings yet. I believe if I make him wait to hear me say that, it will make us have a stronger relationship." He couldn't help but smile. "I'm speaking from experience. I know about these things." He was joking, but he tried to keep a straight face.

"Is that why you made me wait?" she asked.

"Did I make you wait?" he asked back with an innocent expression.

She shook her head and asked, "Where is this Inn, anyway?"

"Hell if I know, but Mike gave me the address. It's magical, so we can apparate there. I booked us adjoining rooms, by the way." He was slightly embarrassed. He wasn't sure whether to book a suite together or adjoining room. They had yet to have sex when he originally booked their rooms, and they had only had sex once after he booked them, so he still felt slightly odd about where their relationship stood.

She had been worrying about that very thing. She said, "I think we could change the room to a single suite, when we get there, but only if you want to, if not, we can keep the adjoining rooms."

He smiled and placed her bags on the floor. He took the other bag from her hand and placed his hand on her face. He said, "There is nothing I would like more than to share a room with you, Hermione." His thumb rubbed her lip, and then he bent his head and kissed her lips lightly. She grasped the collar of his jacket, and he placed his forehead next to hers.

They stood like that for a while, until it was bordering on awkward, and then he finally raised his forehead and said, "Let the games begin."

They changed their adjoining rooms to a suite, and then after they were shown their room, Draco began to unpack. Hermione walked around the room, fingering all of the bric-a-brac and decorations. She went over to the window and touched the curtains. Finally, when her little tour was finished she went to sit on the bed. The bed she would be sharing with Draco.

Somehow, this whole relationship felt rushed. It felt like they were moving too fast. Staying in the room meant they were lovers, but she didn't feel that way, yet. That didn't mean she didn't want to marry him someday, though.

Draco finally noticed that she hadn't unpacked, as he placed the last of his things in the bathroom.

"What's the matter?" he asked her.

"I think perhaps we should see if we can get the adjoining rooms back," she explained.

He frowned and sat next to her. "May I ask why?"

"Doesn't this feel rushed and forced? We've barely dated, and now here we are, away for the weekend, sharing a room. It seems too quick," she said.

"Well, they've probably given those other rooms away, besides, we love each other, don't we?" he asked. He was mentally tired of all of this, so he said, quietly, but loud enough for her to hear, "Sometimes I'm tired of all the discussion about our relationship." Then he said to her, "You think this feels rushed, right? Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black? You told everyone you wanted to marry me before we even dated! Wasn't that rushing things a bit, Hermione?" He stormed away from her, went back to the bathroom, and slammed the door loudly. Two seconds later he came back out and asked, "You do love me, right?"

"I love you," she said. He sat back down next to her.

"Well, fine, I love you, too, so what's the problem?" he asked.

"Where do you see this relationship heading?" she asked.

He stood up and felt like screaming. "At the moment, I see it heading toward the toilet." He went back to the bathroom and slammed the door again. He opened it just as quickly the second time and walked back toward the bed.

She looked down at the floor. He rolled his eyes and came back to sit beside her. He said, "Why do we have to discuss it to death? Why do we have to define it or give it a description? Let's take a page from dear old Shakespeare's play, 'Hamlet' and what will be will be."

She smiled and said, "That's from a song. Hamlet's quote is, to be or not to be, you git." She laughed, stood up, crossed over to the bathroom and started to unpack. From the bathroom she said, "My mother used to sing that song to me. It's a very old song."

He stood in the doorway and said, "How does it go?"

"It just goes, que sera, sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see, que sera, sera," she said. As she quoted the lyrics, she saw that his little misquote, 'what will be will be', more accurately described their current situation than 'to be or not to be.' She started to unpack her overnight case, and she felt self-conscious because he was watching her from the doorway, but he wasn't speaking. Finally, she looked at him, almost daring him to speak.

Therefore, he did. "Where do you see this relationship heading, Hermione?" he asked. He wanted to see how brave she was.

She bit her lip, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. She wanted to be truthful to him. She looked down and said, "I see it heading toward a permanent thing. I see it heading toward marriage and children." She knew she would probably scare him away with the truth, but by all that was holy, she was taking the phrase, 'to thine own self be true,' literally, and that statement was true.

He walked out of the bathroom once more. She frowned and said loud enough for him to hear it, "Now I'm tired of that." She closed the bathroom door, not for privacy, but because she frankly didn't want to look at him anymore.

He decided to go see if anyone else had arrived, so he knocked on the bathroom door and said, "I'm going to go see if anyone else is here yet," and he left.

Hermione opened the door and walked over to the bed, threw herself on it, landing on her stomach, and she screamed into the pillows.

Draco walked around the Inn, and saw Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny, checking in. He was about to turn back around when Potter called out, "Oi, Malfoy!"

'Ugh,' he thought. He was hoping Potter wouldn't see him. He turned to face him and said, "Hermione's up in the room."

Harry sort of laughed and said, "Okay. Don't worry, I don't want to hang out with you, I was just saying hello."

Draco started toward the bar, but then said, "Potter, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Harry turned to Ginny, raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then turned back to join the other man in the bar.

Both men ordered firewhiskey and then went to a table in the corner. Draco said, "I'm going to cut to the chase. How did you know you wanted to marry the little she weasel?"

"You mean Ginny, my wife?" Harry asked, with a bit of ire.

"Yes, yes, I suppose that's her name. How did you know that you wanted to marry her?"

Harry chuckled and said, "Geesh, Malfoy, I don't know. I guess in a way I knew I was going to marry her from the moment I fell in love when I was a kid. It wasn't as if I thought so much about it, as I just knew it was going to happen."

"You know that Granger has been telling people since Christmas that she was going to marry me someday, don't you?" Draco asked, taking a large gulp of his drink. It burnt his throat on the way down.

"Yes, I suggested to everyone we have her checked for a head injury, or psychosis, but apparently she's sane and her faculties are intact." Harry took a large drink as well.

"Don't you find that odd, because she didn't even know me very well back then, and we had no prior relationship, and frankly we hated each other as kids? But she told people she was going to marry me," Draco began, "I mean, how can a bloke take something like that seriously?"

"When it comes from someone like Hermione Granger, it is serious," Harry said, suddenly sullen. "You want to break up with her, don't you?" Harry slammed his glass on the table, splashing the contents all over both of them. As Draco wiped his face, Harry continued his tirade. "I swear, I told her you weren't sincere. What, you claimed you loved her just so you could sleep with her?"

"Hey, Potter, you're bang out of line, mate!" Draco shouted back. "I do love her, but for Merlin's sake, does that mean I have to marry her? Does that mean I have to map out the rest of my life right now? We just started dating!"

Harry took a deep breath, willing himself not to curse the man, and said, "If you don't want the relationship to grow, and proceed, then you should break it off, because Hermione isn't one of your passing fancies, Malfoy. I agree that it's too soon for you two to seriously talk marriage when you just started seeing each other, but if Hermione Granger thinks she wants to marry you someday, take that at face value."

"Does that mean to keep her I have to marry her?" Draco asked.

Harry felt like he was speaking to a child, but then he realized that Malfoy's emotional upbringing was dubious at best, second only to Harry's. He realized that Draco was probably stunted emotionally, so he said, "You don't have to marry her, Malfoy."

"I don't want to lose her," Draco said.

Harry said, "That's not a good enough reason, Malfoy. Gee, I would say that you two deserve each other, but I still happen to think she deserves better. The thing is that you're both misguided. She wants to get married just to get married. You want to get married so you won't lose her. How about love, you idiot?"

"What's love got to do with it, Potter?" Draco spat.

"Everything, Malfoy," Harry said back. "What's this really about, anyway?"

"It boils down to this, Potter. I finally found a woman who was a true friend to me. I haven't had many friends in my life, I've never had a female friend, and at first, I didn't want to jeopardize that. Hermione Granger is an incredible friend," Draco said with a smile.

"Really, I wasn't aware," Harry said with a hint of sarcasm laced with a hint of a smile.

"Funny, Potter," Draco said. "So it was a big deal for me to chuck that in to try to have a relationship with her. And I won't lie, there were times when I wasn't sure we would ever come together and work it out, and during those times of indecision I would picture myself being with her forever, maybe even marrying her, but those were fleeting thoughts, with no basis in reality."

"The reality is, now that we're together, I'm unsure of our future, even though I love her more than I thought possible, and that scares the shite out of me," Draco admitted.

"Hermione scares a lot of people," Harry said seriously.

"Hermione is the secret writer at her paper," Draco suddenly said.

Harry wasn't sure what one thing had to do with the other. "I know that," Harry said.

"I'm the other writer," Draco said.

"I didn't know that," Harry said with a small grin.

"Hermione's last article was about getting married," Draco said.

"No it wasn't. It was in today's paper, and I read it," Harry said, confused.

"You read the one she re-wrote. Her first article she threw away, but I read it, and it was about marriage. I also found a piece of paper where she wrote out 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy' a million times and a million different ways. It too, was thrown away. I think I scared her, because that same evening I said that marriage and kids ruin a relationship," Draco tried to explain.

"First, the whole 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy' thing doesn't mean a hill of beans. She did the same thing back in school with Ron and Victor. It's just a silly thing women do and they don't really mean anything by it. The article thing, well, I don't know what to tell you about that. When did you talk with her about your feelings on marriage, before she wrote it or after?"

"I spoke to her about it after she wrote it," Draco said. "It was right before we made love for the first time."

Harry had a disgusted look on his face, put his hands over his ears and said, "Please don't even tell me about that or I might have to kill you! You know what, I'm not sure I'm the right person to help you with this, because I want her happy, but I don't think you're the person who will do that for her, so anything I say from this point on will just be construed in the wrong way, so I think I should leave." Harry stood up and said, "Just do what's right, Malfoy. Follow your heart." He started to walk away but turned back and said, "I have one more thing to say…what's the hurry? Take your time and be sure, both of you."

Draco felt that his talk with Potter was a humongous waste of time.

Hermione walked down the steps to look for Draco. She wanted to have a nice weekend, so she was going to apologize for putting him on the spot. As she walked down the hallway toward the lobby, she spotted Michael Corner leaving a room. She stopped, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and she turned back around. She hadn't spoken to him since the scene in her hospital room, and she didn't especially want to speak to him, because she really didn't know what to say. She started back toward her room and heard, "Hermione?" He was right behind her.

She turned around and said, "Hello, Michael."

"Are you recovered?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Completely," Hermione said, swallowing the lump that was in her throat.

"Are you here with Malfoy?" he asked.

Gee, he cut right to the chase, didn't he? "Yes, we're together," she answered.

"Are you happy?" he asked sincerely.

Hermione almost winced in pain at that question, not her own pain, but the pain that she felt was emitting off the man in front of her. When had she become a person who hurt other people?

She really wished Draco would swoop down and rescue her right now, not because Michael was some sort of a cad, but because she felt incredible guilt every time that she looked at him. Instead of being rescued by Draco, Harry Potter came along and saved the day.

"Hello, Michael," Harry said from behind Hermione. He gave her arm a slight squeeze. She looked back and smiled at him. They had been best friends for so long that no words needed to pass between them. He knew she felt uncomfortable. "May I steal Hermione for a moment? Ginny's having some sort of fashion emergency."

"Sure, I'll see you both at the rehearsal dinner tonight," Michael said. He walked away and Hermione waited until he was out of sight and then she turned to Harry and threw her arms around his neck.

"My hero," she said. "I can't even look at him without feeling guilty."

He laughed and said, "I really do need to talk to you." He didn't give her a chance to respond; he merely took her hand and led her toward the same bar where Draco and he had just been.

"I had an interesting talk with Malfoy a moment ago," Harry said, leading her to an empty booth.

"Interesting?" she asked, as she sat down.

"About marriage," Harry said.

Hermione placed her face in her hands and shook her head.

"Poor guy is under the impression that if he doesn't pop the question soon, he might lose you," Harry said.

Hermione looked shocked. "I've never given him that impression! I mentioned it slightly in the room a bit ago, but that's all."

"Yes, and you've been saying since Christmas that you were going to marry him someday. You also wrote an article about marriage, which he saw after you discarded it, and he saw a little piece of paper where you wrote, 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy'." Harry sat back in the booth and waited for her response.

She was quiet for a moment and then said, "He knows I'm the writer of the articles?"

"Yes, and he's the other writer," Harry said.

That shocked her. She really had no idea. Now she sat back in the booth. She looked down at her hands and said, "I hope I haven't made a mistake."

"You think Malfoy is a mistake?" Harry said, just a bit too hopeful.

"I mean about the whole marriage thing, Harry Potter," she chastised.

"You did go around telling everyone you wanted to marry him, I mean, the poor guy is bound to think that," Harry said.

"When I said that at first," she explained, "I didn't really even mean it, not truly. I meant I just wanted to marry, and soon, and I thought that someone like Draco would nicely fill the bill, but I didn't love him yet. But now I truly do love him, and so if I say it now, it would be because I love him, not just because I long to be married."

"How is he supposed to know that? He might just think you want to marry, and any bloke will do."

"If any bloke would do, I would have stayed with Michael, Harry, because he said he loved me and wanted to marry me. Please, don't insult me," she said, a bit miffed. "I don't want to just get married to get married. I'm not desperate or lonely. I'm not longing for a man. I like my life. I have a good life and I'm happy, but does that make me less of a woman, less of an independent woman, if I want to share all of that with a husband someday?"

"Do you still want to marry Draco?" Harry asked. "Did you mean it when you said it? Do you mean it now?"

"I didn't mean it then, but I do now, but now I feel like I can't say it, because it won't sound sincere." She looked down at the table again. "It doesn't matter, anyhow, because he doesn't want to get married to me or anyone."

"He just started dating you," Harry said, "give the guy a break. Frankly, I can't believe I'm defending him, and to you of all people." Harry stood up and said, "But, I am going to offer you the same advice I offered him." She looked up at him. "Don't rush into anything. Be sure you really want to marry. Take your time, where's the rush?"

"Everyone I know is getting married," she said.

"If everyone you knew was getting a sexually transmitted disease, would you want one?" he asked.

She gave him the dirtiest look she could muster and said, "That's stupid!"

"I think you both need a swift kick on the bum, and I would gladly be the one to do it, but I'm slightly afraid of you, and Malfoy would probably sue me, so let me just say one more thing," he said. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Don't say things you don't mean, and mean the things you do say." He leaned over, kissed her head, and walked out of the bar.

Hermione continued to stare at the table. That was the worst advice she had ever received, or possibly the best. She wasn't sure.

She didn't notice when someone walked in the bar. She didn't notice when the same person walked over and stood by her table, and she didn't even notice when they sat down. So imagine her surprise when the person reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Oh, you scared me, Draco Malfoy," she said.

"I went and got us different rooms," he said. "Adjoining rooms, but separate."

"Is that what you want?" she asked.

"No, but it's what you want," he said back.

The room situation was like a metaphor for the marriage situation, and she didn't want that. She didn't want him rushing into marriage, if that wasn't what he wanted, just because it was what she wanted.

"I want you to be happy," she said. "I want you to have what you want, so let's just keep our suite. It's a really nice room, after all." He stood up and moved to the booth beside her.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I think for the first time I am, because I really do love you. I might not have known that for sure until now," she said.

He gave her a half smile, because that statement bewildered him a bit, but he said, "I'm glad you're finally sure." He put one finger under her chin and really looked in her eyes. He searched them for some type of deception, saw none, and said, "I love you, too, Hermione. I really do. I'm not sure I meant it until now, either." He leaned toward her and placed his lips gently on hers. She put her head on his shoulder.

"Draco, I won't ever mention marriage again, okay?" she said.

"You can mention it," he said. "But I don't want to feel weird about things if I mention that I don't want to get married."

"Okay, so we both promise no more weirdness, okay?" she said.

He chuckled and said, "That'll be hard for you, because you're always a bit weird."

She gave a sarcastic laugh and said, "Fine. Glad we have that cleared up."

Mike walked in the bar and raised his hand toward their table. Draco started to stand; however, Mike shook his head no and pointed toward Hermione. Hermione looked at Draco, shrugged, and then scooted out of the booth. She walked up to Mike and he gave her a big hug.

"What's up?" she asked, while still in his tight embrace.

"Second thoughts, I'm afraid," he said.

"Do you need me to talk to her?" she asked.

"No, talk to me," he said. "I'm the one having the panic attack."

"You're having second thoughts?" she asked.

"Yes, and if I talk with Malfoy, he'll only reinforce them, so I need to talk to you, please?" He looked so scared and forlorn. She looked back at Draco, gave him a sad smile, and took Mike's hand and followed him out of the bar.

They found a secluded corner of the lobby and he took a deep breath. He said, "Are we doing the right thing?"

"Oh my gosh, I am so not the right person for this," Hermione said, "but Harry Potter was going around giving unsolicited sages of wisdom earlier, perhaps he might have a snippet for you, too."

"I don't need wisdom, and I know in my heart that I'm doing the right thing because I love her more than words can say," he said. "It's just that I don't want people to think that we're getting married just because of the baby."

"About that, how dare you two not tell me," she said honestly.

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. "Lavender has always been a bit intimidated by you. She knew you would lecture her about birth control and being responsible, and remind her that we're adults, not children. She really thought you would give her a rough time."

"Well, I wouldn't have," Hermione said, although she wasn't so convinced herself. "But what difference does it make what other people think? And you were going to marry her in the summer anyway, so what difference does it make to move it up a few months? My goodness, man, get a grip, shut up, and marry the woman."

Mike laughed and said, "Where's Harry Potter again? Maybe I should talk to him instead of you."

"Oh, he would tell you the same thing," she said with a smile. She took his hand and said, "Let's go for a walk."

Draco watched Mike and Hermione leave the lobby hand in hand. He felt someone by his side. He looked down and saw Lavender. She looked like she had been crying. He really, really, REALLY hoped she wouldn't want to talk to him.

"Can I speak with you for a moment, Draco?" she asked.

He cringed internally, and looked around for anyone to save him. He only saw a few strangers, so he looked back at Lavender and said, "Let me just say that I suck at advice, Lavender, especially relationship advice, so no, I'm sorry, but I can't talk with you." He saw Harry walking by and said, "Hey, Potter, over here."

Harry walked up and said, "Yes?"

"She's all yours, Potter, work your magic," he said. He put Lavender's hand in Harry's and walked out the door to follow Hermione and Mike.

He found them sitting on a low wall surrounding a fountain. He stayed behind the shield of trees and listened. "I can't believe Malfoy is the other writer," Mike said. "Is Harry sure?"

"Yes, he's sure which means Draco has probably known all along that I was the female writer, which begs the question, why didn't he tell me? Now I feel the need to go back and re-read every single article to search for a sign, and to see if anything he said contradicts the way he feels for me."

"Why would you think that the articles would prove a contradiction?" Mike asked.

"It's just that the male writer always told the woman writer, which was me, to follow her dream, and to never give up. He told her if she wanted marriage to go for it, and if Malfoy always knew from the beginning that I was the one who wrote those articles, and I have been saying for months that I loved him and wanted to marry him, then wouldn't that mean that he DOES want to marry me, too? I just so confused."

Damn, Draco felt confused too, something he promised he would never feel again. She was right. He had told the other writer to go after what she wanted. Did he mean that?

"Hermione, Harry's right. You can't say things are moving too fast and then expect Malfoy to marry you next week. Things don't work like that, not in the real world. I have to go find Lavender. I hope you and Malfoy settle everything. Enjoy the moment, Hermione. Enjoy the dance. Don't live your life as an abridged version of a story, just waiting for the last chapter to be written. Savor the words in between. Read the footnotes, the index, and everything. Don't skim through the pages just to find out what happens in the epilogue, because you might be terribly disappointed."

Hermione laughed and said, "I read this book once that had a terrible epilogue that ended nineteen years later, and the heroine of the story ended up marrying a man that was completely wrong for her."

"Yeah, and I bet you would have preferred reading what happened during those nineteen years, wouldn't you?" he said with a wink. He walked away and she turned and placed her fingertips in the cold water of the icy fountain.

"Would the epilogue have been better if the heroine had married a dashing blonde named Draco?" Draco asked as he approached.

She smiled and said, "It would have been better for me, I think. More exciting. I think other people might have liked that, as well. So, eavesdropping again, Malfoy?"

"I would never know a damn thing if I didn't," he retorted.

The wind blew her hair in her eyes. Just as she reached up to place it behind her ear, he did as well. Hermione lowered her hand as Draco placed her hair behind her ear. He stroked her hair and cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his hand.

"Can we just take things slowly? Let them develop and see where they lead?" he asked. "I know I gave you shoddy advice as the male counterpoint to your articles, and I'm sorry if I misled you, for that was never my intent. I really did mean what I wrote, but yet, a person can mean something and not be able to put it to practical use, you know?"

"You lost me at, 'take things slowly'," she lied. She took both his hands in hers and said, "Realistically, we do need to date a while before we see if we are meant to be together in the long run. Who knows, my epilogue might have me married to someone else."

"It might have you die early, too," he said. She let go of his hands and he shrugged and said, "Some stories end that way. I mean, I don't want ours to, but you never know. Not all stories have a happy ending. You might contract some fatal disease or something."

She asked, "Why do I have to be the one that dies? Why can't you be the one that dies?"

"Seriously, Granger, I'm much too good-looking to die," he said.

"Good looking people die everyday, moron," she said. She stood and started to walk away. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down to his lap. She struggled to escape for a moment, before relaxing in the security of his arms.

"Hey, I was joking, I don't want you to get a disease, fatal or not, okay?" he said. He kissed her neck. It felt nice. "That's the beauty in being co-authors of this evolving story, Hermione. We can make it up as we go along." He put his arms tightly around her and whispered in her ear, "If we don't like how something is turning out, we just crumple up the paper, and start all over again."

"If you don't like how I've written a scene, you can edit it," she said. She turned in his lap slightly and kissed his lips.

"If you don't like how the ending evolves, you change it up a bit," he said softly. He brought one hand to her hair, combed his fingers through it, and placed the hand on her back. He brought her face to his and kissed her lips slowly.

"If I don't like the x-rated parts, I can change them to something more generic, Disney princess theme, where all the princes are eunuchs and everyone sings with all the little forest animals," she said.

He kissed her lips again, with more pressure and then lifted his face to say, "You're not that good of a writer. You couldn't convince anyone that I'm a eunuch and you could never make me sing." He scooted her off his lap and said, "Let's go see if our suite has sound-proof walls." He took her hand and they started up the stairs. They kept staring at each other, smiling, and soon, Hermione was even blushing.

Once outside their room he said, "Is your imagination making you blush, or are you just wondering what in the world I'm going to do to make you scream that we'll need a sound-proof room?"

"I'm leaving the ending of this chapter up to you, Draco Malfoy," she said.

"Ah, it's great to be me," he said, ushering her in the room and shutting the door behind them.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_Why didn't you tell me that you were once engaged to her?" Hermione asked. "I thought you had such an aversion to marriage! Now to find out that you yourself were once almost married, well, I don't know what to think any longer."_

"_Do you see a ring on my finger?" he asked__._


	20. 20 Tangled Web we Weave

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 20: Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave:**

Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish poet and historical novelist, famous for writing Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, and The Lady of the Lake, was born in 1771, and he wrote, "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive." The quote, often accredited to Shakespeare, was actually from a poem called Marmion, and the fact remains that Sir Walter Scott wrote it, not Shakespeare, and that Draco Malfoy was living proof that no truer statement had ever been written.

Even more important was that Draco had never given that quote a thought before tonight. Now he finally understood what it meant, because he was tangled up in his lies, and he saw no escape except to continue the lies.

He started to tell her the truth. He started to tell her that he was once engaged to be married, but that it ended badly and he swore off marriage from that point on, and he really had never changed his mind. He didn't want to marry. It wasn't that he couldn't picture himself married to Hermione, because he could. He just never really wanted that. In his humble opinion, marriage ruined a relationship.

Therefore, he was in a predicament. He could be truthful with her, and continue to see the hurt in her eyes, and possibly lose her, no matter what Potter said, or he could lie to her, and tell her he would marry her, and in the end, he would be the one to suffer.

Those were his choices. Be truthful or lie. He could be honest and tell her that he was once engaged to be married, but that he was the one that broke it off, and for no valid reason, or else he could be even more devious, lie and say that the stupid bitch broke his ever-loving, fucking heart and he was on the rebound.

He could be truthful AND lie at the same time, and never tell her a single thing about his past. That seemed the most prudent path to follow. That seemed like the best plan of all. Remain silent, for silence was golden, and by being silent, he wasn't truly lying. Lying by omission wasn't lying in his humble opinion.

When he ushered Hermione into their room, she said, "Do we need to go down to the lobby and tell them we're staying in this suite instead of the other rooms?"

"Ah, no," Draco said slowly.

"You don't mean to tell me you're going to pay for this room and the other two, are you?" she asked.

His brows knitted together and he knew he had to proceed with caution. He said, "No, I'm only paying for this room." That wasn't a lie.

"Did you want me to pay for the other rooms?" she asked.

"Here's the deal," he said, plopping down on the center of the bed. He placed his arms behind his head, crossed his legs, and said, "I didn't really get the other rooms. I told you I did, and really, if you had seemed keen on the idea, I would have scurried out to the lobby, book two adjoining rooms, and come back to you the concurring hero. But, when you said it didn't matter to you, and we could stay here, the problem sort of solved itself." He seemed pleased, though he knew she would deem that as lying. He, however, thought he was being 'crafty', rather than lying.

"You lied," she said.

He scooted to the end of the bed and said, "Not really, I would have gotten adjoining rooms if you had said that you wanted them."

She looked baffled, crossed her arms, and said, "I did want them, and you said you got them, and you didn't, ergo, you lied."

"Ergo? Who says 'ergo' Hermione?" Draco said with a sly smile.

"I say it, Draco Malfoy," she said. She walked over to the settee and sat down. She suddenly found her shoes very interesting, because she was staring at them. "Why do you lie so often?"

"Because I do it so well," he joked.

"Why did you lie about being the male writer?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes and said, "You lied about being the female writer, and anyway, we really just concealed our identities. Is that lying?" Concealing, like omission, wasn't lying in Draco's opinion.

"Yes," she said. She punched the pillow that was on the settee and threw it at him. "I imagined that was your face when I punched it." She smiled.

"Fine, I lied, you lied, and everyone lies. Let's tell each other some truths. That'll make us both feel better," he said. "Let's get to know each other."

"Oh, I already know one thing about you, you're a big fat liar," she said laughing.

"Okay," he said. "I happen not to be big or fat, however, or I mean, ergo, I do lie occasionally." He stood up and said, "How about I tell you something about me that you don't know, and then you can tell me something about you." He sat next to her on the settee, banged his shoulder into hers and said, "I have a mole on my left nipple that sometimes has a dark hair that grows out of it, and for the life of me, I don't know where that dark hair comes from, because, hello, I'm blond."

She laughed so hard she hid her face in the arm of the settee.

"You want to know what's really weird?' he asked.

"That's pretty weird, but what's _really_ weird?" she asked, still chuckling.

"Sometimes, I pull the damn thing out and I swear, it's so long its scary, and it's like one day it's not there, and the next day it is, and it's 3 centimeters long or something," he said.

She still laughed and said, "I don't know that I wanted to know these types of things about you, and I know I'm not going to reciprocate that type of information."

He tickled her ribs and said, "Come on, show me your freaky long hair. Everyone has one of those types of things." He pulled her blouse up slightly and said, "Hello, Hermione's belly, do you have a freaky long hair?"

"You're stupid," she said, pushing his hands away.

"See, now you know three things about me, I lie, I have a freaky long mole hair that's black, and I'm stupid. Enlighten me about you, now," he said. He smiled at her and slipped off his shoes. He was having fun. This was why it was nice to be in love with your friend.

Her face suddenly lit up and she kicked her shoes off as well. She crossed her legs underneath her and said, "Let me think. Okay, well since you told a rather embarrassing secret, I'll tell one, too. One time I had a date with a bloke at a water park. I had to wear a bathing suit, and the top was too large on me, so Lavender gave me these little gel inserts to put in the top, to fill it out more." She started to laugh, and Draco put his hands over his mouth, already mortified for her. "And as my date and I was walking, one of them slipped out and landed on the pavement, and I didn't notice, and neither did he, until these two girls behind us started laughing, and ran up to me and said, 'I think you lost one of your boobs'." Hermione laughed so hard she gasped and Draco busted a gut laughing just as hard.

"I bet that poor guy didn't know what to think!" Draco said.

"It was Mike, so you'll have to ask him what he thought," Hermione said. Draco's eyes opened wide and she said, "I rather think Lavender set me up because she had her eye on him, but of course, she didn't know I would lose one of my boobs."

He reached over and tweaked her breasts with both hands. She hit them away and said, "HEY!"

"Just wanted to make sure that I'm getting what I see. I want to make sure there's no deception going on today," he said. "One of us being a liar is enough."

"You've seen me naked, you know what my breasts look like," she said, her head cocked to the side. She shook her head and said, "Seriously. Now, tell me one real secret. No body parts, weird hairs, or anything of the sort."

There was one thing he had wanted to tell her forever. He wanted to tell her that he never wanted to get married. He wanted to tell her why. He thought for a moment and said, "I was engaged once." As soon as he said it, and saw her shocked expression, he regretted it. Secretly, he had wanted to share it with her, especially since she seemed so gung ho about marriage. He wanted to tell her there was a reason he was not enthusiastic about the idea. Now that he saw her hurt expression, he knew it was a mistake. "No, I'm lying again. I don't have a real secret. You know all about me."

"Oh, you scared me there," she said, her hand on her chest.

There was a knock at the door. Draco shouted, "We're having sex, go away!"

"Draco!" she said, hitting his arm. She went to open the door. It was Joe.

"Don't let me interrupt, if you're having sex," he said with a sly smile.

"There's no sex in here," she said.

"More's the pity," he said to her. "Hello Mr. Hermione Granger," Joe said to Draco. Hermione shook her head no, but Joe ignored her and leaned over to shake Draco's hand.

"Joe," Draco said, standing. He didn't know what else to say.

"It's almost time for the rehearsal dinner," Joe said. "I just checked in, but I wanted to see if you wanted to have some drinks before dinner."

"I need a shower before dinner," Draco said, heading toward the bathroom.

"A cold one?" Joe asked with a laugh.

"Apparently," Draco said back. He leaned over, kissed Hermione's cheek, and said softly, "Get rid of him and join me." He patted her cheek and headed toward the bathroom.

As soon as Draco was out of sight, Hermione hit Joe very hard on the arm. "HEY!" Joe said.

"Cut out the marriage comments, okay? He's apparently against all things matrimony, so no more Mr. Hermione Granger comments."

"But you're dating, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"And sharing a room this weekend," Joe elaborated.

"Yes," Hermione said. What was Joe's point?

"What are you two doing together then? Just having some fun? A lark? A dalliance? An affair? What? I thought you wanted marriage, Hermione," Joe said.

"Right now it's just important to get to know each other, and see where that leads us," she said. "If you don't believe me, ask Harry Potter."

Joe didn't know what Harry had to do with anything. He said, "Well, apparently, if he's already told you he's anti-marriage, it'll lead you nowhere, so why bother?" Joe plopped down on the settee. "Toss Malfoy to the curb, and go get cozy with Corner. I happen to know he still cares for you."

"But I care for Malfoy," she said.

"Fine, take the rich handsome blond man over the rich handsome brunette, see if I care," Joe said. "Just don't come crying to me in a year when your eggs are shriveled and your hair's grey, and your breasts sag, and he trades you in for a younger model, and you're powerless to stop him because you don't have a ring on your finger."

Hermione couldn't help but smile and said, "My hair won't go grey, nor will my breasts sag in a year, Joey! I think that is at least 15 to 20 years off, if not more. As for my eggs, they're doing fine, too!"

He pointed at her and said, "The point is, don't cry over spilled milk. If you don't go after what you want, and you settle for what he wants, in the end, you'll be sad and alone." He stood up and said, "On that happy note, I'll bid you farewell and I'll see you at dinner." He kissed her cheek and said, "Just think about it."

Great, now she had something to think about it, when she would rather think about nothing at all. Between Harry's advice to give it time, and Joe's advice to hurry it up, Hermione's head was spinning.

Hermione went over to the bathroom and opened the door a crack. Draco wasn't in the shower yet. Dressed in only a towel, he was at the sink shaving. He turned to her and smiled. "Come to join me?"

"No, I think I'm going for a walk. There's a nice little path around the Inn, and it's not that cold outside," she said. "I need to clear my head."

"Wait for me to shower, and I'll come along," he said, frowning.

"I need to go alone," she said. "I have to think about something, okay?"

"No, not okay," Draco said with a smirk, although he felt a bit put out. "We're supposed to be dating, so either take a shower with me or wait for me, those are your options."

Hermione said, "I have one more secret to reveal to you," and she walked over to where he stood. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't like being told what to do, and I would never presume to tell you what to do, so don't do it to me, okay?"

She didn't raise her voice. She said it calmly, serenely, and sincerely. Draco said, "I'm sorry. Please, join me or wait for me. I would appreciate it." Draco reached over and placed his hand on her neck, and then behind her head. He brought her closer to him and said, "Please." He wasn't asking permission, he wasn't pleading. It was his way of saying he was sorry. They stood so close that her clothe-covered breasts were touching his bare chest. He placed his mouth softly against hers, but instead of kissing her, he repeated, "please."

She put both hands on his bare chest, took the initiative, and kissed him. She moved her hands around to his shoulders, and then behind his neck. Her head tilted to one side, and she pressed her lips hard on his, opening both her mouth and his mouth in one movement. Draco was surprised, but in a good way. His hands went around her waist and pressed her closer. Her mouth left his and wandered across his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck. He held her head in his hands. She came back to look at him and smiled. He smiled back.

"I'm going to take my walk now," she said. She placed her mouth on his once more, kissed him goodbye, pushed away from him, turned swiftly, and flew out the door. He shook his head in disbelief, perplexed but intrigued by the woman he was beginning to care for more than life itself. Damn, it looked like it would be a cold shower for him after all.

Hermione grabbed her jacket and slipped down the stairs, and out the back door of the Inn. She walked across the flagstone patio, past the fountain, to a line of trees. She saw the walking path, clearly marked, and started her trek. She needed time to think.

She hugged her arms tightly around her and mulled over everything Joe had said, and Harry had said, in her mind. They gave conflicting information, but it didn't matter, because she would follow her own heart anyway. She looked down at the dirt-lined path as she walked, and didn't notice when a set of arms came toward her, to keep her from smashing into the person they belonged to, Marcus Flint.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her head popped up and her hands came out to rest lightly on the man's chest.

"Hermione Granger?" he asked.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"I went to Hogwarts, but you may not remember me. I was older than you, and in a different house." He finally let go of her arms and then held out one hand. "Marcus Flint."

She took his hand, shook it, and said, "I remember you, how are you?"

He let go of her hand and said, "I'm great. I just got here and decided to go for a run, and I thought this little path would serve its purpose. Are you here for Mike Cooper's wedding?"

"Yes, I am, how do you know Mike?" she asked.

"We're first cousins," he said.

"I didn't know that," she said, thoroughly shocked.

He smiled and said, "Well, he was in Ravenclaw you know, so he's always hidden his Slytherin family. Our mothers were sisters."

"I'm Lavender's maid of honour," she said.

"Yes, and Draco Malfoy, the bastard, is Mike's best man, over me, his only cousin," Marcus said with a laugh.

She smiled and said, "Well, I need to finish my walk before the rehearsal dinner."

"Are you set to be alone, or would you like company?" he asked.

She really wanted to be alone, to think about her future with Draco, but Marcus seemed so affable and friendly, that she said, "Let's go."

They walked in silence for a while, when finally Hermione said, "I'm dating Draco now."

He stopped walking. Now it was his turn to seem shocked. He said, "Sorry, but you left me speechless for a moment."

"Because you can't believe he would date a Muggle-born?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't think that sort of thing matters to any of us anymore. The sins of our fathers were more or less washed away the day Harry Potter, along with you and Weasley, destroyed the Dark Lord," he said with a light tone, though it was a serious matter. "No, I'm surprised, because the last time I was in the England, which was almost a year ago, Malfoy was engaged, so I figured he would be married by now."

It was her turn to stop walking. He turned to look at her and said, "You didn't know, did you?"

She tried to smile and said, "No, he mentioned he was engaged before," and he did, although he retracted the statement almost as soon as he made it. "We've just started seeing each other; it's a fairly new relationship, so we have a lot to get to know about the other. He didn't even tell me to whom he was engaged."

"Oh, well that's an easy one which I can answer. Do you remember Padma Patil, Ravenclaw? Her sister was in your house at school," he said.

She felt like Marcus hit her in the gut. "Yes," was all she could say.

"Well, they were engaged, and the marriage was set for the summer, and they seemed happy when I last saw them, but apparently not everything was as it seemed. I'm glad for it, though, because I think you're the better match for him," he explained while smiling. "Perhaps we should head back. I think the rehearsal dinner is in twenty minutes."

"I want to finish the trail, you go on back," she said with a sad smile.

He narrowed his eyes, smiled, and took her hand. "Malfoy's lucky to have you, Hermione." He kissed her knuckles and with a wave of his hand, he walked back the way they came.

All Hermione could think was, 'Draco Malfoy lied to me.'

The guests and family members of the Brown/Cooper party were all congregated in the private dining room, which was on the second floor of the Inn, with a balcony overlooking the back of the property. Dinner was buffet style, so most people had already filled their plates. Draco stood out on the patio, waiting, worrying, and watching, for Hermione Granger.

Marcus Flint had told them all just a few moments ago that he saw her on the path.

Harry Potter said there was no reason for anyone to worry, she probably just was caught up in her thoughts, and wasn't aware of the time.

Yes, everyone made either a witty remark about the fact that she was late to dinner, or a blasé comment. Draco wasn't listening to any of them. He was worried. He wasn't worried about her health and well-being. He was worried about his own, because stupid Marcus Flint also told him what he had said to her on the path. He told her that Draco was once engaged to Padma Patil.

Stupid Marcus Flint.

Draco leaned forward on the railing as he saw her finally emerge from the mouth of the path. He leaned forward and held out his hand. She looked up at him, and waved back. He watched as she disappeared toward the door of the Inn.

He ran through the private dining room, so he would catch her before she went to their room.

He looked down the stairs as she ascended. Her head raised, they stared at each other the entire time, Draco, with a worried look, Hermione with a look, which he couldn't interpret. He stayed where he was, and when she was level with him, he took her arm and pulled her down the hallway, and then down another. Then he pushed her against the wall and stared down at her. She could barely breathe. Before she could ask him what he was doing, she let a delicate breath of air escape her lips and that was the moment he needed.

He said, "You're so beautiful" and then his mouth came crashing down on hers. She was in the midst of asking him a question with that escape of air, when his mouth landed on hers, so he swallowed her question as his mouth covered hers, lips sliding effortlessly across hers, tongue dipping in her mouth, hands on her body, one in her hair, one on her back, moving lower. He felt desperate, desperate to kiss her, desperate to make love to her again, and desperate to keep her from asking him why he lied about something so important.

He wouldn't give her time to talk. She sighed in his mouth, and the friction of their bodies next to each other caused a dull ache in his groin. He finally stopped kissing her and he looked at her face, flushed from the cold March wind and the rough kiss he had just bestowed on her. Her breathing was as laboured as his was.

"Let's go make love," he said. He bent his head and kissed her ear.

"No," she said, taking all the strength she could gather to push him away. "I have to get ready for the dinner. I'm late."

"Who cares," he said, as his hands slid down her neck to cup her breasts. "Who cares," he repeated as he bit down on her neck.

"I care," she said, her voice almost dying away. She felt weak when she was with him like this. This was real. This was honest. This was something they both shared and felt. She moaned and pushed him away again, and headed back toward the main hallway to their room.

He was hot on her tail. He reached the door before she did and said, "Marcus told me he told you about Padma." There. He could be honest, too!

"Why didn't you tell me that you were once engaged to her?" Hermione asked. "I thought you had such an aversion to marriage! Now to find out that you yourself were once almost married, well, I don't know what to think any longer."

"Do you see a ring on my finger?" he asked_._

"Of course not," she said.

"Then what's the big deal?" he asked, though he knew the answer to that question. "I was going to tell you, really, I was."

"Its fine, Draco, it is. We both have had past relationships, but I just want to know why you claim you never want to marry, when at one time you must have wanted to, because you were engaged. Is it just me?" As soon as she asked it, she was embarrassed, because that statement sounded desperate, but she was human, and she had insecurities, too. She turned in his arms and went in their room.

He stood in the doorway. She grabbed her suitcase, threw it on the bed, took out a dress, shook out the wrinkles, and began to undress.

He shut the door and watched her. She kicked off her shoes, shimmed out of her slacks and socks, and threw her shirt on the floor with her jacket and shoes. He was captivated. As she changed her clothes right in front of him, he was mesmerized with each movement of her body, the soft sway of her hips as she walked over to get her shoes. The way her breasts came together, as she raised her arms and slipped her dress over her body. The way her legs looked so sexy when she slipped on her shoes.

He wanted to throw her on the bed and make love to her and never let her leave, and never let her talk to him, or ask him questions.

Yes, he would be happy if there were no dialogue at all.

She glided across the room to him, took his hand and said, "After dinner tonight, I want an honest answer from you about why your engagement with Padma broke off, okay?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep whiff of her essence, and then opened them again, only to pull her to him. He said, "After dinner tonight, we'll come up here and make love all night long, and then, if we have time, I'll talk."

She frowned and said, "Who the hell do you think I am?"

He laughed and said, "For goodness sakes, Hermione, I think you're the woman I love. I think you're perfect in everyway, just as you are. Why don't you feel the same for me? Why don't you accept me for the way I am? I love you. Isn't that good enough?"

She sighed. It was going to have to be, although the truth was, she wasn't sure that it was, because unlike Draco Malfoy, she didn't lie.

* * *

_Coming up:_

_The crowd of people all turned and stared at her. She was embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated. She started to rush from the room, when a strong arm came out of nowhere and pulled her into an equally strong chest._

_She looked up into the eyes of…_

* * *

_A/N: I need a quick note. This story will still have a happy ending, but you know I really want to go with my original story arc. I think it will prove to be more romantic in the end. Therefore, if you give up on this story now, you might miss some great romance, but I understand if that is your choice. I know many people are upset at the direction this story is taking, and this chapter will stress those few out even more. I apologize in advance. I usually do what my readers want, but this time, I really want to do what I want. I am sorry in advance for my selfishness. I love all of you and your reviews and they mean a lot to me! Thanks!_


	21. 21 Silence is Golden

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 21 – Silence is Golden:**

A great American, Muhammad Ali, once said, "Silence is golden when you can't think of a good answer." How right he was.

In addition, an old German Proverb said, "Speech is silver, silence is golden, speech is human, silence is divine."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow put it the best: "Ships that pass in the night, and speak to other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness. So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness and a silence."

All Hermione knew was that the silence that fell between her and Draco Malfoy that night was the loudest silence she had ever heard. In this case, silence was not golden, but deafening.

All Draco Malfoy knew was that silence may be golden, but it was also painful, albeit necessary at times.

Draco felt anxious and numb during the rest of the rehearsal dinner. Hermione was bright, cheerful, and unusually happy. What an act. He could tell she was every bit as anxious as he was, but she hid it better. Sometimes Draco wondered who was truly the better liar, him or her. It would remain a mystery.

After the rehearsal dinner, and after most of the guests had gone back to their rooms to get a goodnight sleep in preparation for tomorrow's nuptials, Hermione, Harry and Ron Weasley all sat around a single round table outside on the patio by the main lobby. They weren't speaking. They weren't communicating in any verbal way. They were completely silent. Yet, the silence was natural, not awkward, and it spoke volumes.

Draco looked everywhere for Hermione, and when he found her outside with her two best friends, he was unsure how to proceed. If he joined them, he would feel as if he was imposing. If he didn't join them, it would appear that he was running away, hiding from her, avoiding her, which would be closer to the truth of what he wanted to do.

The three friends, often called "the golden trio" were the epitome of the phrase, "silence is golden". They were comfortable enough with each other to be quiet. Draco envied that. Such quiet solitude amongst friends was a true rarity. Harry was sitting on Hermione's right and had his head on his arm, his other hand holding Hermione's hand. Weasley was on Hermione's other side, and was sitting back in his chair, his legs crossed. Hermione had her chin in one hand, her other hand holding Harry's on top of the table.

Draco walked over to the table and removed his jacket. It was the end of March, and still very cold, yet it was apparent the three friends were oblivious to the cold. He draped his jacket across Hermione's shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled her thanks. He went around to the opposite side of the table, pulled out the chair, and started to sit down. Weasley stood and said, "Take my chair, next to Hermione."

Ron stood up to allow Draco to sit next to her. It was Draco's turn to nod his thanks.

"The dinner was nice," Draco said, breaking the silence that only the three friends found comforting.

"The chicken was good," Harry said.

"I had the beef tips," Draco said.

"I wanted to try them but they were gone," Hermione said.

"I had the sirloin, and it was excellent," Ron said.

"I had some of the sirloin, it was good," Draco said.

"I wanted to try it too, but I didn't," Hermione stated.

"You should have, it was good," Draco reiterated.

"So you said," Hermione stated. "I had the chicken."

"I had the beef tips," Draco repeated.

"Oh," was Hermione's response.

Suddenly, Harry could tell something was amiss. He let go of Hermione's hand and sat up, and looked from Draco to Hermione. Ron noticed Harry looking at the couple and then he too looked back and forth between them.

"The potatoes were overdone," Hermione said.

"I thought so, too," Draco agree.

"Did you have the cheesecake?" Hermione asked.

"I tried it, but it was too sweet," Draco said.

Ron looked over at Harry and said, "What the hell is going on here?"

Harry shrugged and said, "I thought the potatoes were overdone," repeating what Hermione had just said earlier. He wanted to see if they would notice.

"I thought so, too," Draco said for the second time.

Harry was more confused than ever. Ron laughed and said, "The cheesecake was a bit sweet." He wanted in on the fun.

"I thought it was good," Hermione said for the second time.

Ron started laughing, and so did Harry. Hermione looked at them strangely and then to Draco. Draco shrugged. "Did you try the beef tips, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No, it was all gone," she said. She suddenly realized they had been having the same conversation, repeating the same pat phrases, for the last five minutes. She started to laugh as well.

Draco looked at the three laughing friends, and frowned. He said, "I don't get what's so funny." That made the three friends laugh even harder. Draco crossed his arms and sat back in the seat.

Ron said, "Well, if we have finished regurgitating dinner, I'll head upstairs. 'Night, Ferret, Harry. Goodnight, Hermione." He patted Harry's shoulder, kissed Hermione's head and added, "I hear the beef tips were good, Malfoy." He laughed the entire way into the Inn.

Draco said, "See if I try to have a conversation with you three again." He looked over at Harry, knowing if he left it would just be him and Hermione, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew she would want to talk about his former engagement, and he wasn't in the mood. For the first time since they arrived, he wished they had adjoining rooms. If they did, he could retire to his and feign sleep, and he wouldn't have to talk to her until the morning.

Some romantic weekend this was turning out to be.

The silence between the three people around the table now was SO different from the silence that existed between the golden trio earlier. Instead of this silence being golden, this silence was made of lead. Harry felt the tension in the air. He finally said, "What's going on between you two?"

Draco looked at Hermione, who looked at the table. Harry stood up and said, "You know what, I've given enough advice for one day, so don't tell me. Just go to bed, both of you, and don't ruin Lavender and Mike's wedding tomorrow, no matter what." He patted Hermione's head, as if she was a wounded pet, and walked away.

After a few more minutes of silence, Draco said, "Who the hell does he think he is, telling us what to do?"

"I think he's right. I'm heading up." Hermione stood up and walked in the Inn. Draco waited a few moments and followed.

When he entered the room, she was in the bathroom. He undressed down to his boxers and pulled down the covers. She came out of the bathroom, putting lotion on her arms. She sat on the side of the bed, and rubbed more lotion on her legs. She had on a pretty, blue silk nightgown and Draco thought she looked beautiful.

He did love her. He had just never wanted to get married, and he didn't see why he had to change his mind for anyone. Why couldn't he be truthful about his feelings? Why couldn't he be selfish? That didn't mean that he hadn't entertained thoughts of marrying her, because he had, but that was all they were, fleeting thoughts. He would never want to act on them because he NEVER wanted to get married, and he didn't feel the need to qualify his feelings to anyone, not even her.

She backed up to the head of the bed, and placed her legs under the covers. She picked up a book and started to read. He kept his back to her and sighed.

With his back to her, he said, "Last year I started dating Padma Patil. It was nothing at first. We were just having fun, a good time. I wasn't in love with her." Hermione put her book down and looked at his back.

He continued. "She was beautiful, carried herself well, a pureblood, and we had great sex. When my parents started talking about marriage, and she started talking about marriage, I thought, okay, perhaps it's time to get married."

"Draco," Hermione started. He put his hand up to silence her. He turned to face her. She turned slightly in the bed to face him.

He said, "Please, let me get through this or I might not be able to finish."

She gave him her undivided attention.

"The truth is, Hermione, I didn't want to get married, but like you, I saw all my friends getting married, Theo and Pansy, Blaise Zabini, Greg Goyle and Millicent, everyone was getting married. Potter even married little red. Everyone was getting married. I never wanted to be married. I don't know why, but I just never did. I didn't want to get married to her, but I didn't see the harm, and I didn't want to be left behind. I thought if I have to, then I would. I thought I would give it a go. I thought it was the natural order of things. I thought the idea would grow on me. It didn't."

When he put it like that, she felt slightly embarrassed, because the truth was, that was why she wanted to marry originally, just because everyone else was doing it. She remained silent, and he took that as his cue to continue. He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it.

"I took her home to meet Mother and Father. I met her family. We went together and picked out her ring. I never had a 'go down on one knee' moment. I never even officially asked her to marry me. It was just assumed. She started talking about it, and I never stopped her. She planned a June wedding in the South of France. We announced our engagement at a formal engagement party at Christmas. By January, we were picking out crystal and china patterns. By February, we were looking at houses. By March, we were planning our honeymoon. By April, we were talking about baby names. By May, it was over. Just like that. Just when I was finally convinced that marriage was the right thing for me, it was over." He let her hand drop on the bed.

She looked down to the bed, and started playing with the hem of her gown. Hermione asked, "Why was it over?"

Draco stood up and seemed agitated suddenly. He began pacing back and forth. "I didn't want to marry her, Hermione! I cared for her, but I didn't love her! I really had no dying need for marriage, a house, kids, the whole works. I have only imagined that with one person, and that was you, and even then, it was just a fast, fleeting thought!"

He stormed over to her side of the bed and pulled her up by her arms. He shook her, suddenly angry with her, and he wasn't sure why. "It wasn't cold feet, it wasn't that one of us cheated, it wasn't really anything except that fact that I was finally honest with her! She cried, and screamed and begged me to change my mind. I hurt her, and I didn't care! I don't want to hurt you that way, because if I hurt you, I would care! I didn't love her so I ended it before it was too late, before we had a house or kids! Does that make me wrong? Does that make me the bad guy? I'm so sick of always being the bad guy, Hermione! Why is it wrong for me to follow my heart? Maybe what I did was right and noble! Have you thought of that?" He was still shaking her and tears were streaming down her face.

He stopped shaking her and just held her at arms length. After several awkward moments he said, "She even tried to tell me she would be happy just living together. She said she didn't need a ring to be happy, but that was a lie, Hermione and I knew it and so did she."

He let her go and she fell down on the bed. He put his hand on her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "My lapse in judgment, my mistake, of letting her think we had that kind of future, hurt both her and me in the end. I will not do that again. I want to be honest with you. I don't want to betray who I am. I want to save you heartache, pain, and trouble! I don't want you to be the wounded party. 'm trying to give you a reprieve from that sort of pain, a pardon, if you will."

He sank down to his knees and grasped both her hands. He said, "I know I won't change my mind, and I shouldn't have to, Hermione. I just don't see myself ever marrying, and that doesn't make me a bad person. I don't have to explain that to anyone. It is what it is. I'm not that complex of a person. I want to be in love with you, and I want you to be in love with me, but I want you to understand what it really is."

"It's not like I'm afraid of getting hurt myself, because I wasn't hurt the first time with Padma. She was. I don't want you to suffer what she suffered."

He placed his cheek on her bare leg, and she couldn't help but to comfort him, even though she felt her insides were melting. She stroked his hair and he said, "It's simple, really. I just don't want to get married. If you can't see yourself just loving me as I am, and with the conditions I've put forth, or if you think I've misled you, or you're under the false impression that I'll change my mind, or that you can change it for me, then we need to end this right here and right now."

Those were the words she was afraid of hearing.

He looked up at her. She was no longer crying. He didn't know it, but she was too numb to cry. He said, "It's not that I don't love you. I know I love you more than I have ever loved, and that's why I have to be truthful. No more lies. I don't want to lie to you. I love you more than I thought possible. I know I should have just stayed friends with you, and the fact that I took it further, knowing that you _did_ want marriage and that I didn't, was wrong and selfish of me, and that's something you'll need to either forgive me for, or not."

He stood up and pulled her into his arms. She put her arms around his waist. He rocked her back and forth and said, "I was so selfish to think I could convince you not to marry, all the while trying to tell you to follow your dreams of marriage. I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I wish I could convince you that just being in love is enough, but it isn't, not for you, is it?"

With her face against his chest she asked, "You don't think you'll ever change your mind?"

"Will you ever change yours?" he asked back.

Their silence was the answer to both of their questions.

They held each other for a long time. He finally broke the silence by saying, "I don't think I can just go back to being your friend, because I will always love you."

Hermione felt defeated and started to cry. She cursed her damn tears, for making her appear weak. Her tears were tears of anger and betrayal. He said, "I'm not the man for you, am I, Hermione?"

She looked up at him and said, "What if I said marriage no longer matters?"

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, Hermione. Who's lying now?" he said to her.

She wiped the tears from her face and sat back down on the bed. She said, "Let's not do anything rash tonight. Let's take Harry's advice and not ruin Lavender and Mike's wedding, okay? We'll act as if this conversation didn't take place tonight. We'll act as if it took place tomorrow, after the wedding. We will sort everything out tomorrow, and find out where we stand."

He didn't know what to say, so he plaintively said, "Okay."

She turned out the light by her bed and crawled under the covers. She felt lost and confused. He crawled over her body and went under the covers, too. He turned to face her and she kept her back to him. He reached over and played with a strand of her hair. She asked, "Will you want me to move out right away? Can it at least wait a month or so?"

"I thought we weren't going to decided anything tonight. I mean, my goodness, Granger, you don't have to move," he pleaded. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Draco, I can't possibly stay there and see you every day, knowing that I love you, knowing that you love me, and yet knowing it's hopeless and that we're at an impasse. That would be sheer torture. I can't. I don't want to subject myself to that sort of pain."

"I shouldn't have pursued you. I knew you wanted marriage someday. It's my fault," he said.

"Yes it is," she agreed. "Except, I think I might have pursued you, too, and deep in my heart, I suspected that you didn't really want what I wanted, so I'll take partial blame."

"As you should," he said with a small laugh, although he didn't believe it, and he didn't think it was funny. "Are you sure that being married and having kids is the be all, end all, of your existence, Granger? Are you sure it's what you really want?" He was trying one last-ditch effort to persuade her. He knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try.

"I think I'm as sure that it is, as you're sure that it's not," she said. She turned to him and said, "I love you, Draco."

"I love you, too."

"That's not enough for either of us, is it?" she said.

"It's enough for me, just not for you," he concluded.

"You're so stupid," she said, with a small laugh.

"I know," he said back. How was he going to let her go? How was he going to tell her goodbye? He wanted to swallow his pride, and just give in, but he was so afraid that he would be unhappy, and wouldn't it hurt her more if he married her and then five years down the road, he left her? Wasn't it better to leave her now?

She was right. He was stupid.

If Draco had just listened to his brain, and not his heart, his damn heart wouldn't be breaking right now, and neither would hers. He reached over to her, and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. He placed his hand on her neck. He pulled her over to him, and she sighed. He turned her to face him. He buried his face against her neck and tried to breathe in the scent of her, so he could always remember her smell, her touch, her essence. His lips brushed her neck, and moved over to her cheek, turning to her mouth, and catching her lips with his.

He reached down, blindly, for he felt he was in a haze, and he reached for her hip, and then pulled her leg up over his. His mouth left hers to trail a line of kisses on her neck and shoulder. Her hands pressed on his chest, but not hard, not as if she was pushing him away. He heard her whimper.

'Forgive me, Hermione,' he thought, but if he was going to say goodbye to her, he was going to say it properly. He pushed her to her back, reached down, and pulled her nightgown over her head. She seemed as desperate as he felt. His mouth moved down her chest to her nipples, where he placed one in his mouth.

He pulled away, letting the nipple leave his mouth and he reached down and pulled off his shorts. He wanted to ask her if he should continue, but he would take her silence as his consent.

He placed his mouth on her stomach, over her navel, and as he kissed her stomach, he started to tug at the waistband of her underwear. She helped him slide them off her legs. His hands cupped her backside and he took a ragged breath before he placed his tongue along the plane of her pelvic bone. He swiped a long lick across her lower abdomen, and then spreading her legs more with his elbows, he moved his shoulder under her left leg, so that her knee was bent slightly, and his tongue stabbed at all she was offering him.

The pleasure that coursed through her was every bit as real as the pain she felt. The thought that this would be the last time they would share this sort of passion broke her heart and her spirit. She started a gentle moaning, almost a keening sound escaped her lips, and he shifted position from her clit to her cleft and with the help of his tongue and his fingers, she started her ascent.

Would this really be the last time they would share this sort of pleasure? He refused to believe that. With each lash of his tongue, she rocked her hips and mewed a gentle moan. Her hands reached for the sheets and bunch the cotton between each fist. Shudders began to rack her body, and he guided her to the start of her climax, but then he stopped and moved up her body.

He wanted to tell her to look at him, but he was afraid to speak, because it would make it all seem like a charade. He wedged his hip between her soft thighs and positioned the head of his shaft against her opening. He pushed lightly at first, entering her just a fraction at a time. The moment he was finally buried to the hilt, he thought he would come immediately. He gripped her waist for a moment, and then brought his hands up and placed his elbows beside her head. He placed one hand on her forehead, and touched her cheek with the other one.

He rocked back and forth, his head tucked between her neck and shoulder, one hand coming to rest on one of her breasts. She reached for his hand and they laced their fingers together, first with one hand and then with the other.

He arched up, pushing harder and harder into her silky warmth, and he finally opened his eyes to see that she was crying. As the sobs continued to escape her, he wanted to tell her not to cry, but again, words could not form, and he was silent.

He lifted himself slightly from her, let go of her hands, and plunged in one last time, as hard and long as he could. That was when they locked eyes and he knew that he had hurt her more with this one last selfish act of making love, then he had with his admission of truth, and he wasn't sure he could live with himself, or with his guilt.

The muscles in her belly signaled her release, he gritted his teeth, holding off for her release, and when it started, he was so thankful because he had to end this. He would die otherwise.

What should have been the ultimate pleasure was ultimate pain. What should have been an act of love was an act of retribution. What should have been hello was goodbye.

He moved off her and rolled to his side. She rolled to her side, once again facing away from him. He placed his hand on her arm, rubbed it up and down, but he was without words. He kicked back the covers and climbed out of bed, all the while screaming silently in his own mind, "I'M SORRY!" He put on his shorts and went to the bathroom. He took his wand, put up a silencing charm, and screamed every curse word he had ever known, and then some.

Hermione felt her heart break painfully, with each beat, and she sat up and reached over the side of the bed for her gown. She placed it over her head, found her wand and cleaned herself up. She knew she had to get out of that room or she would suffocate and die, from the sheer silence of it all.

She looked for her robe, but remembered she had left it in the bathroom, which was where he was. She reached down for Draco's jacket and placed it over her shoulders. She put her wand in her purse, put her purse under her arm, and snuck out the door. She didn't know if she should try to get another room, or go to Harry and Ginny's room, or what. She finally decided to get another room. She might have been able to make it through the night if they hadn't just made love. Now, she had to get away from him…far, far, away.

She walked down to the lobby and went to the front desk. She asked for another room, but was told that the Inn was full. She cried out, "Please, I just need another room! Please!" Just then, she saw a crowd of people leaving the bar, just as it was closing. It was Mike and all the men from the wedding party. Harry and Ron were there. So was Marcus Flint. She was leaning against the counter, painfully aware that they all heard her ask for another room, and of how things looked. She knew she was barefooted, in her nightgown, with her purse in her hand, and Draco's jacket over her shoulders.

She knew her eyes were red from tears cried.

She knew fresh tears were streaming down her face.

The crowd of people all turned and stared at her. She was embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated. Harry and Ron looked at her with concern on their faces. She started to rush from the lobby, when a strong arm came out of nowhere and pulled her into an equally strong chest.

She looked up into the eyes of Michael Corner. She buried her face in his chest and cried. Without a word to anyone else, he turned her around and walked her down the hall to his room. He gave her the key, smiled at her, kissed her on the forehead, and without saying a word, left her alone. He didn't know why she needed her own room, but she could have his. He would stay in the lobby all night if he had to, and she didn't have to tell him a thing.

Hermione thought one thing, silence may be golden, but it was also incredibly lonely.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_Why won't you lower your wards so she can move out easier? The way it is, we have to move each individual box out front," Michael said._

"_I don't give a shite; I'm not going to make this easy for her or for you. I don't want her to move out," Draco shouted._

_Hermione stood on the stairs and said, "What do you want, Draco Malfoy?"_

* * *

_A/N: Okay, before everyone sends me hateful reviews, I have to say I think this was one of the best chapters I have ever written, of any of my stories, even if no one else likes it._

_My inspiration was the second book of the Twilight series, which, by the way, is my least favourite of the three, and which frustrated me to no end. Edward left Bella, because he was so damn self-righteous, and he thought he knew what was best, and all he really did was throw her into the arms of another man, Jacob. _

_Also, something I found frustrating in those books is how Edward continues to want Bella to marry him, but she keeps saying no, and her only valid argument is "I'm not that girl, Edward!" How inane. _

_In the books, I don't dislike Jacob, but I certainly don't want Bella and him to be together, and I thought the act of Edward and Bella coming back together was so romantic, but not expressed very well, so this is my homage to that book, and I am sorry if you are angry with me. They will rebuild their relationship, I promise._


	22. 22 Better to Have Loved and Lost

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 22: It is Better to Have Loved and Lost:**

Which of these lines are true? Tennyson's famous line from "In Memoriam" states, "Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." However, in "The Way of All Flesh" Samuel Butler played with that quote and changed it to "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have lost at all."

Some might wonder if the subtle differences in the quotes matter. They mean the same thing. Just as when Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy said that they loved the other meant the same thing. It was just that they said it differently, even though the words were similar.

Hermione's 'I love you' was like Butler's quote, for she would always mourn what she had lost when she lost Draco, or better yet, what might have been.

Draco's 'I love you' was like Tennyson's quote. He would never regret loving her, and he would never forget.

There was no way Hermione could have gone back to their room that night, especially not after everyone saw her in the lobby. The next morning, Ginny delivered her luggage to her 'new' room. Hermione didn't even ask her if Draco packed it or if Ginny did. Likewise, no one asked Hermione what happened, and no one could find Draco.

The wedding was at noon, and was to be held in a gazebo by the edge of a lovely garden at the back of the Inn. It was a beautiful, bright, crisp day. It was cold, but the groom put up a warming charm so all the guests would be comfortable. Well, as comfortable as they could be.

Draco Malfoy showed up at exactly two minutes till noon. He looked disheveled and perhaps a bit drunk.

Hermione tried hard not to look at him during the service. Draco didn't even try to look anywhere but at Hermione.

When the Minister started the ceremony, Draco actually whispered to Hermione, "Hey, Granger!"

The only person to look at him was Lavender, and that was to give him a dirty look.

After the short service, the bride and groom, followed by Hermione and Draco, walked through the throng of guests, back toward the Inn, for the reception. Draco tried to pull on Hermione's arm, to get her attention while they walked up the uneven path toward the Inn. She looked back at him once, said, "Go away," and that was the amount of conversation they shared during the ceremony.

After the ceremony, during the reception, Draco sat in a corner all alone, and drank some more. No one asked him any questions. No one showed him any concern. Meanwhile, everyone was attentive to Hermione. "Do you want another piece of cake, Hermione?" "How are the canapés, Hermione?" "Did Draco break your heart, Hermione?" Draco Malfoy felt he was in a parellel universe. He was older and wiser, and long gone from school, yet he felt he was transported back to the days when everyone treated Granger like a fucking princess and treated him like a Death Eater's son.

At least he knew who his true friends were, which was apparently no one. He finally saw Hermione heading toward the bathrooms, and he thought he saw a window of opportunity. He had to talk to her. He had to find out if she was alright. Okay, fine, he knew she wasn't alright, since he had broken her damn heart, but still, he needed to talk with her.

Somehow he thought that last night, after they made love, he would come out of the bathroom, and she would perhaps be asleep. He would pull her into his arms, and when they woke up, everything would be back to normal. She would say, "Guess what, I don't want to ever get married either, it was all a joke." And they would laugh, kiss, make up and go on their merry way.

No, he wasn't suffering from delusions, he really thought that was a distinct possibility.

Too bad it wasn't.

He opened the bathroom door, and noticed there were three stalls. He bent down, and saw her feet in the middle one. He knocked on the door.

"Ahem, this one is taken, sorry," she said.

"Granger?' he said.

He heard an intake of breath, and then he heard her say, "Draco, get out of here! This is a bathroom and I can't talk right now."

"If I leave, will you talk with me later?" he asked.

"I don't see that we have anything to talk about, Draco. You made it abundantly clear that you never want to marry. I do. Someday, so help me, I do. I would like that to be with you, but I can't keep up the farce. If you don't want what I want, then like you said last night, you aren't the man for me."

He thought she was being a bit brutal and abrupt, frankly.

"Hermione, just talk with me, please," he pleaded.

An older looking witch walked in the bathroom at that moment, looked shocked, opened the door again, looked at the front of the door, saw that it said "Ladies" and then said, "Excuse me sir, but I think you're in the wrong bathroom."

Hermione walked out of the stall in time to hear Draco say, "Listen you old bint, I need to talk with someone in here, if that's okay with you." He took the woman's arm and ushered her out the door.

Hermione washed her hands, shook them for a moment, then grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of the bathroom. Outside in the hall she said, "Excuse us," to the woman.

She pulled Draco down a long hallway, toward the room in which she stayed last night, and once by the doorway she said, "What in the world do you want from me? Do you want to make this harder on us? Do you want our suffering to continue?"

Draco pushed her shoulder and said, "At least you acknowledge that it's a pain shared by two!"

"Draco!" she said in desperation. She slid down the wall, brought her knees up to her chest and said, "I can't do this."

He said, "Here are my choices, Hermione. I can be selfish and say I'll marry you someday, make you return to me, but then never marry you, or I could be the bigger man, be noble and generous, and tell you the truth, and just love you! Which do you prefer?"

She took in a ragged breath, which sounded like a ragged cry, and said, "I don't want either." She turned her face from him and stared across the hall.

"What can I say?" Draco asked.

"Oh, Draco," she said, hanging her head. "There's nothing to say and there's nothing to do, it just is what it is." She stood up, ignoring his outstretched hand. "We started this backwards. We started somewhere in the middle. If we had dated like normal people, we would have found out these things about the other, and then we wouldn't have taken it this far." She walked up to him and continued.

"We took an old story, and instead of playing by the rules, we put a new twist to it, and it just didn't work out. It's no one's fault." She rubbed her eyes and said, "We just want different things from each other, and different things of each other." She started to walk away from him, but he reached out and he took her arm and held his hand there. She kept her face away from him and said, "We were doomed from the start, because we were both selfish." She turned back to him. He looked desperate.

"I wanted you to want me, and the things I want, but all the want in the world can't make something happen," she surmised. "I don't know what else to say."

"Did you sleep with Corner last night? I know you stayed in his room. I had three different people tell me so today," he said, his hands now balled into fists at his side.

"No, I slept in the room, and I don't know where he slept," she said.

"I love you," he said. That didn't have anything to do with anything, but he wanted to say it.

"Yes, I know. If only that was enough," she said. She gave him a sad smile and said, "I'm thinking of leaving early. I think I'll go in and tell Lavender and Mike congratulations, and then I'm going home. I'll see you soon, okay?"

She started down the hall and he watched her go and he knew only one thing and that was that he loved her. He wasn't going to lose her over a silly thing like marriage.

He arrived later that evening, back to his stupid house, all alone. As soon as he walked in the doorway, he saw Michael 'the fucker' Corner carrying a box down the stairs.

"Stealing?" Draco asked.

"Moving Hermione out of this place," he said.

Draco laughed, although he found nothing at all humourous, and he asked, "Why is she moving? Where is she moving?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your concern anymore. Why won't you lower your wards so she can move out easier? The way it is, we have to move each individual box out front," Michael said.

"I don't give a shite; I'm not going to make this easy for her or for you. I don't want her to move out," Draco shouted.

Hermione stood on the stairs and said, "What do you want, Draco Malfoy?"

"I want to talk to you, privately, please," he pleaded.

"You don't have to speak with him," Michael said.

"Listen, Corner, if she wants to speak with me, she can speak with me. I'm not sure what you think occurred between us last night, but I have no intentions of hurting her, so she'll be safe," Draco said. Hermione walked the rest of the way down the stairs and joined Draco in his flat. He threw his suitcase down in the corner of the room, threw his coat on the floor, pulled open the blinds, and threw his body across the couch. He placed one arm over his eyes.

"Are you going to take a nap, or do you want to speak with me?" she asked.

"I don't want you to move out," he said.

"Tell me why," she said.

He kept his arm over his eyes, but patted the placed beside his hip on the sofa. She didn't join him. Instead, she stated again, "Why, Draco?"

"Please, join me on the couch," he said. She did as he requested and she sat beside his hip on the couch. She placed one hand over his body, and braced it across the back of the couch. With her other hand she removed the hand from his eyes. She kept his wrist in her hand. The feel of her skin on his set him on fire.

"Why shouldn't I move out," she said.

In his head, he said, "Because I love you." Aloud he said, "Because you are the best tenant I've ever had." Geesh, that was feeble.

"I don't even pay rent," she said.

"There's some things more important than rent," he said.

"Draco, let's not beat a dead horse. This is over," she said. She started to stand up, but he grabbed her hand.

"Reach in my pocket," he said.

"Draco!" she chastised.

He suddenly sat up so he was sitting by her side, forcing her to turn her body in the other direction to look at him. He said, "I meant my coat pocket you little pervert," and he stood up, went over to the corner, and reached in his coat pocket. He handed her a folded piece of parchment.

She merely looked at it and said, "What is it?"

"Open it," he said.

"It is an itemized bill for the rent?" she asked, only half-serious.

He opened it and handed it back to her. She took the piece of parchment from him with a shaky hand and hesitantly, she began to read. She read the first few sentences and said, "What is this?"

"My current article."

"You intend to keep writing the articles?" she asked.

"Perhaps, or this might be the last one. Read it," he urged.

She did. It was about how people who love other people should love them for their faults as much as for their strengths. It said that just because people want different things, didn't mean that compromise couldn't be found. She frowned while reading most of the article. She handed him the paper and stood up. "Are you going to lower your wards?"

He snickered and said, "No comment on my article?"

"What do you want me to say? You forgot a comma there," she said, leaning over and pointing, "And you ended in a preposition there. Instead of saying, 'what are women afraid of,' you should say, 'why are women afraid,' or 'Of what are women afraid,' but other than that, I don't have much to say."

She started out of his flat and he cleared his throat. She turned around.

"Don't move out," he said.

She sighed.

"Listen, where else are you going to find a flat that has no rent?" he said with a smile.

"I'm moving into Harry's house for a while," she said, "and he won't charge me rent."

"You aren't moving in with Corner, the ponce?" he asked.

"Be nice. And I might remind you, Michael was your friend before he was mine," she said.

"So is that all you are, friends?" he asked.

"Yes, Draco Malfoy, he's my friend," she answered.

"And yet I'm not. I wonder why that seems unfair," he said. "There's some inequality going on, and it's not fair at all. Is it because of our past? I don't mean our recent past, either." He sat back on the couch and motioned with his hand, "Go along, little Mudblood, I don't want you to live here after all."

She glared at him and then sat back down. She placed her hand on his arm. He looked down. Then she pinched him very hard.

"Damn, Granger!" he said. He grabbed her arm and pinched her back.

"Ouch!" she said. "You called me a Mudblood, so you deserved your pinch. You're immature," she added.

He made a strangled noise and said, "Me, immature, ah, well, huh, maybe I am but at least I'm not you! So there!"

"You can't even form a coherent sentence!" she said, exasperated.

He placed his hand back on her arm and said, "I'm going to pinch you again unless you give me a valid reason why you have to move out."

"Give me a valid reason why you don't want to marry me," she said.

He felt like pulling out all of his hair, or maybe hers, so he picked up a throw pillow and placed it over her head, and pushed her down so she was on her back on the couch, with his body directly over hers.

"So help me, I will suffocate you with this pillow if you mention that again!" he threatened, as he raised the pillow from her face.

"Draco, get off me," she said.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"You're acting desperate," she concluded.

He thought for a moment and said, "I can live with that. Tell me, why can't we still be friends? You dated Weasley and you're friends; you dated Mike and you're friends. You dated Krum and I know you still correspond with him."

She turned her head toward the sofa pillow. He threw the throw pillow on the floor, but remained on top of her body. He placed each arm on the sofa by the side of her head, and with his right hand, he moved the hair from her face and stroked his thumb back and forth across her forehead.

"I felt differently for you," she said.

"You feel," he said.

"I felt, past tense," she said. She closed her eyes.

"You feel," he said. He skimmed his nose across her face, and then kissed her cheek, his tongue coming out quickly and licking her face before it retreated back in his mouth. He whispered in her ear, "You feel, Granger."

"Yes, I feel tired. I feel used. I feel mess up and confused." She opened her eyes.

"That rhymes," he said. He closed his eyes and placed his lips gently against her pulse point, and then kissed up the long column on her neck.

"I feel sad and like you never really cared for me, or you wouldn't be doing this to me," she said softly.

"I'm not giving up on you," he said. "Why should I? Who says we can't be happy with the ways things were?"

A single tear went down her face and fell on the sofa cushion. He leaned his face toward hers and kissed the wet trail it left in its wake. He said, "I'm sorry to cause you pain."

"You were just being honest," she said.

He finally leaned away her, but she stayed on her back on the couch. He said, "You said we started backwards, or in the middle, or whatever. Maybe that's true, so maybe we should just take Potter's advice, be friends, and see what happens."

"I don't want that," she said as she struggled to sit up. "Michael's waiting for me."

"Screw Michael," Draco said. "Well, no, don't." He stood up and pulled on her arms. "This is my life too, Granger."

"No, I'm only thinking of myself right now," she said. She stood and he continued to hold her arm.

"Stay."

She wanted to stay. She wanted to give up her convictions and just be happy and be in love, but in the back of her mind, she would always be afraid of him leaving her. A person didn't need a piece of paper to make a person stay, and neither did the lack of one mean they wouldn't leave. She walked to the door and saw Michael heaving another large box out the door.

"How many boxes have you moved so far?" she asked.

"Just those first five full of books, why?" he asked.

"Leave them," she said. "Just leave them on the front steps, and I'll bring them back inside."

He dropped the box and rushed up to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the hall. "Are you a glutton for punishment?" he asked.

"No, but I don't want to move, and I feel like you and Harry are forcing me to do so," she said honestly. Harry took that moment to walk down the stairs. Draco didn't even know he was even there. That changed things a bit. He knew Corner was no match for him, but if Potter got his claws in her, he might force her to do anything.

"Oh, and Malfoy's not forcing you to stay?" Harry asked.

"He's pleading with me actually, and it's quite pitiful," she said, turning to look back in his flat as he was now by the door, behind her, with a smug look on his face.

"Do you have no self-respect, Hermione?" Michael asked. "He will tire of you in six months top. He'll never offer you marriage and children. I will."

She closed her eyes and wished for everything to be as it was before. She opened them back up, and reality was still staring her smack dab in the face and she said to herself, "Damn, it's not a dream. It's still the same." Then she took a deep breath and said, "Michael, all I can offer you is my friendship, you know that, don't you? I don't want more from you."

"Yeah, well, Malfoy doesn't want more from you either, remember that," Michael said in disgust as he turned to leave. "No," he said, turning back around, "Remember one more thing. He does want more. He wants your love, but he doesn't want commitment. He wants sex without strings. When did you turn into that sort of girl, Hermione?"

Harry wasn't about to stand there and let anyone talk to his friend that way.

Draco was about to hex the man to kingdom come.

However, Hermione pushed Draco back in the door, and shut it behind her. She looked up at Harry and raised her hand. Then she walked up to Michael and said, "You don't know me well enough to make any sort of statement about my life, nor do you know me well enough to insult me and have me ignore it. I'm not going back to him. I can't do that to myself, but I won't be made to feel guilty into leaving here, and I won't be made to feel guilty if I offer him my friendship."

Michael gave her a glib nod and walked out the door. Draco opened the door to his flat and was going to tell her 'bravo,' but she turned to him and said, "I'm only offering you my continued friendship. I will move on, and so will you. Friends only, Draco Malfoy. I no longer want to marry you, anyway." She ran up the stairs.

Harry stayed where he was for a moment, and then he went to get her boxes.

Draco thought that was the meanest thing she had ever said to him, that she no longer wanted to marry him, and he wasn't sure why. He had been telling her the same thing for months. Did it hurt her the way it hurt him? He walked out to the front stoop, and helped Harry levitate the boxes all the way up three flights of stairs, to her door. Harry walked into her flat, leaving Malfoy alone in the hall. He paused for a moment, before he turned to leave. He would take things one day at a time, one step at a time. At least she wasn't moving out. Draco felt like he at least won the battle, now all he had to do was to win the war.

* * *

_Coming up: _

"_Oh look at you, you're a mess." She sat down beside him and took the cloth from his hand. She started to wipe the blood from his face._

"_Did I mar my good looks?" he asked._

"_A bit," she lied._

"_Would you still love me if I was horribly disfigured?" he asked with a smirk._

_She pressed the cloth against his bloody lip and said, "I don't love you now, so it wouldn't matter if you were ugly and disfigured."_

_He grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his face. He searched her eyes to see if she was being truthful. He decided that she was…_


	23. 23 Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 23: Out of Sight, Out of Mind:**

What did the old adage "out of sight, out of mind" really mean? Hermione had been wondering that very thing the last two months, because she hadn't seen much of Draco, yet she thought of him every day. She dreamt of him almost every night. She would daydream about him at work. She would jump at every noise she heard in the flat, wondering what he was doing down in his. She would hear his footsteps outside her door as he left his offices in the evenings. Sometimes, she heard him stop outside her door. Sometimes she didn't. It was driving her batty.

Hermione Granger decided the best way to keep Draco Malfoy out of mind was to keep her distance, keep him completely out of sight, and whether or not that worked, well, time could only tell. There were a few times she couldn't avoid seeing him. She passed him a couple of times in the hallway and smiled, because no matter what, she still had to be polite. He was a human being, and as one, he deserved the niceties of life. She even stopped and talked with him a few times. She laughed at his jokes. She removed his hand every time it reached out to touch her, which was every time they spoke.

She continued to write her articles, and he in turn continued to write his. A happy little medium was reached, somewhere between being more than friends, and being less than lovers. She wasn't happy about the situation, but it was of her own making, so she could live with it.

She continued to see other friends. She even had gone out quite a few times with Michael Corner, who himself was either a glutton for punishment, or he was becoming one of the best friends Hermione had ever had. She told him they were only friends, but in her heart, she knew he still wanted more. Hermione was determined to find him someone to make him happy. That was her new quest. Joe had a ton of sisters, so she would fix him up with one of them. She told Michael her plan, but he merely laughed and told her that he still only had eyes for her. He was definitely a glutton for punishment.

She even went out on two dates with Marcus Flint. Lavender and Mike had her over for dinner when they returned from their honeymoon, and they invited Marcus as well. It was a set up, but still, a date. He took her home, kissed her cheek, and that was all that happened that time.

The second date was really just lunch, but when Hermione reminisced about her first lunch with Malfoy back in January, she realized that Marcus Flint wasn't the man for her either. Unlike Michael and Draco, Marcus wasn't made of money, so he liked the simpler things in life: A good firewhiskey, a good Quidditch match, and a good little woman. Therefore, Hermione quickly discovered that much like all the other men in her life, Marcus was better off in the friend category.

She almost wanted to scream when she realized that she had two men in her life who did believe in marriage, i.e. holy matrimony, weddings, until death do you part, and she only wanted to be their friends. Something was skewed in that picture, and she was smart enough to know it.

Poor Michael even told her just last night that he wasn't giving up on the hope that she would get over Draco and marry him someday.

Yep, definitely a glutton.

The problem was, she didn't get butterflies in her belly when Michael touched her cheek. None of her nerve endings stood on end when he leaned in to kiss her. She didn't get a rapid pulse, sweaty palms, or a dry mouth. Maybe those bodily functions were reserved for Draco and Draco alone, and perhaps she would never feel them again. Perhaps she didn't even feel them for Draco anymore. The old adage, out of sight, out of mind, might be right.

Although she knew, it wasn't.

It was a very pretty Saturday in the last part of May when Draco came up and knocked on Hermione's door. He had heard from Mike that they had her over for dinner Wednesday night, and that Lavender insisted on fixing her up with another man since the thing with Marcus Flint didn't work out. He was incensed when he first heard the news, but he had since calmed down.

Why did they fix her up with Flint of all people? Wasn't it bad enough that Corner was still around. He knew she was still seeing Corner occasionally, but if she started dating other men, he might go insane. He hadn't dated anyone. He hadn't had sex with even one nameless blond, and everyone knew how much he liked sex with nameless blonds.

He decided he had waited long enough. He wasn't going to wait for a Marcus Flint, or a Michael Corner, or heaven help him, some nameless bastard, to come and swoop down and steal the woman he loved. If he had to marry her to keep her, well then screw Potter's advice, screw his own insecurities, and screw the rest, he would marry her.

He knocked on her door and she answered on the third rap. In fact, his hand was still up in the air. He didn't say anything right away, because he was dumbstruck. She looked so pretty. Her hair was down and curly, she had on a pink jumper (Draco was from the old school, he liked it when women wore pink), and a tight pair of blue jeans.

"Do you have a date or something?" he asked. It was the first thing that came to his mind.

"No," she said. "Is that why you knocked on my door?" She left the door open and went back to her dining room table.

"You just look nice," he said awkwardly. Did she always look this nice and he just hadn't noticed? On the other hand, had he noticed and forgotten? Was the old adage out of sight, out of mind, true?

"Do you need something?" she asked.

"The rent is past due," he said with a smile. "Way past due."

"Are we starting that again?" she asked, looking up at him from she was working.

"No, because you owe me way too much money and I might make you work it off in trade," he said with a fake leer.

At least, Hermione hoped it was a fake leer. She smiled and said, "What's up, Draco Malfoy?"

"What are you doing?" he asked back, not answering her. He came up behind her and leaned one arm over on the table, so that it touched her arm. His hand was next to hers, and his chest was leaning against her back. The butterflies were back in her stomach, and they were flapping their wings wildly. She looked over her shoulder, and his face was so close she thought she might die. He looked so handsome. Had he always been this handsome, or was he becoming more handsome? Was the 'out of sight' adage mixed up? Did it mean, 'out of sight, become more handsome?' Because he was. He really was.

She turned back to her work and said, "I'm working on a scrapbook."

"All of these pictures are of your cat," he said with a small laugh. He picked up one and sat on the table next to her arm. He handed the picture back to her.

"It's a scrapbook for him," she said.

"Will he appreciate it?" Draco asked with one eyebrow raised.

"I doubt it," she said. She was suddenly embarrassed. Was making a scrapbook of your cat one of those desperate things single women with cats did? Well, it wasn't as if she had a family. If she had children, she would surely do one for them. If she was married, she could put her pictures from a holiday to Spain or the French Alps in a scrapbook. Since she neither was married, nor had children, Iggy would have to be the focal point of her new hobby.

"I'm in some of the pictures," she finally pointed out.

"Yes, I see that," he said, finger through a pile she had just sorted. She took them from his hand and placed them back on the table.

"You're disrupting my new hobby. What do you want, Draco?" she asked.

"Do you want to go watch me play Quidditch in about an hour?" he asked. "It's a pick up game, just some mates and I. I think Marcus is going to be there."

"So?" she asked.

"Aren't you dating him now?" he asked. He knew that she wasn't but he still asked.

She frowned and said, "No, I'm not dating anyone." She pasted a picture of her and Iggy on a page, pressed it hard, and then slipped the paper in the clear sleeve of the album. She said, "Excuse me; I need to get the kettle." He moved his leg so she could scoot her chair out and watched as she went to the kitchen.

He turned the album to look at the picture of her and Iggy. He looked at it intently. "Hey, Granger?" he called.

"Yes?" she called back.

"May I have one of these pictures?"

"Sure, take whatever one you want, I have copies," she said.

He wanted the picture she had just pasted in the album. He took the whole page out so he could really look at it. In the picture, she would smile, hold her cat, and then she would kiss the cat's nose. He folded the whole page and then stuck the page with the picture in his pocket and went to the kitchen.

"Two cups?" he asked. He noticed she was pouring water into two cups on her table.

"Don't you want tea?" she asked, suddenly embarrassed for assuming.

"No, I have to go get ready for the game. Anyway, would you like to watch?" he asked.

"I'm not real big on Quidditch," she said, picking up one of the cups. "But, it might be fun, and I don't have any other plans today."

He smiled. "Splendid." He said, "Oh, you have something on your jumper." He walked up to her, and there was a small piece of paper stuck right above her left breast. Without further ado, he reached over and picked it off, as if it were in slow motion. She looked down at his hand as it picked up the small scrap of paper, and then removed it. She looked back up into his eyes. He was staring right at her. He took her cup of tea from her and placed it on the counter. He stepped closer, and she moved back so her backside and her hips were against the corner of the counter. His eyes narrowed and her pulse quickened.

He said, "Truly, you look different."

"I don't know why," she said.

He moved his head slightly to the side, his eyes still regarding her, and swallowed hard. His hand came up and moved her hair from her shoulder. He said, "I think of you everyday."

"That's nice."

"It hurts, actually," he said.

"That's not nice," she said, smiling.

"Do you think of me?" he asked.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, opened them and said, "Everyday as well."

"What are we going to do about it?" he asked. He was pressed up against her now, and she actually put her hands up to keep him at bay. They came to rest on his chest. He put his hands behind her back. The butterflies flew from her belly to her nether regions and she wanted to scream. He still had a hold on her, she didn't just mean figuratively, and that wasn't good. He repeated, "What are we going to do?"

"We'll get up everyday, and carry on, and everyday it will get better. We'll forget what we felt, and soon, the love we felt will become numb, and the pain will subside, and we'll find peace," she said.

He expelled a small laugh, as his hand came from her back to her face. He moved his hand softly across her face, until his fingers rested on her neck, his thumb on her cheek.

"Do you still feel something when I touch your cheek?" he asked.

"Please don't," was all she could find to say.

"I don't want to forget you, Hermione. I don't want to grow numb. I don't want any feelings I have for you to subside." He continued to rub his thumb back and forth on her face.

"What about what I want?" she asked. Wasn't that what it all boiled down to, really? Wasn't that why she left him? She wished he would remember that.

He stepped back and said, "It's pretty out there, but cold, so wear something warm. I'll pick you up in 45 minutes." He bounded from the room with a determination that she couldn't define. He was determined never to forget, and he wouldn't let her forget either, if it was the last thing he did.

She picked up her tea and walked back to the dining room table. She noticed that the paper she had just placed in the album was missing. He must have taken the whole page. She looked at Iggy as he lounged on the table and said, "What a strange, but endearing man, Iggy."

An hour later, Hermione was sitting next to Lavender in the stands of a Quidditch pitch, watching Mike, Draco, Marcus Flint, Michael Corner, Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron Weasley, George Weasley, and several others she didn't know, all playing Quidditch.

The fact that she arrived on Draco's arm was not missed by any of them, and Hermione rather thought that was probably his intent, or else he would have told her who was going to be there. The game started and Lavender said, "Are you two seeing each other again?"

"Not at all, he just asked if I wanted to come, and I came with him. It's not a date," she said.

"Because I don't think you should start seeing him again," Lavender said.

"Lavender, I'm not," she denied, a bit too strongly in Lavender's opinion.

Lavender turned her head to watch the game. Hermione turned her head in the opposite direction. The game had just started when Draco and Marcus Flint got into an intense argument. Hermione couldn't even tell what the argument was about, or even if it was about the game. Soon, they were off their brooms and on the ground. A few minutes later, Harry and Ron flew down to join them. Next Mike and George flew down. Michael Corner stayed in the air with Ginny, and he looked over to Hermione and shrugged. Lavender got out of her seat, followed by Hermione. They both peered over the stand, and then all hell broke loose.

Marcus threw the first punch. That made Ginny and Michael leave the sky. Hermione gasped and Lavender screamed as a punch Draco threw, intended for Marcus, hit Mike square in the face. Hermione took Lavender's hand and they ran toward the steps to exit the stands, heading for the ground below.

When they reached the pitch, the fight was over, almost before it had begun. Draco was sitting on his bum, his broom beside him, his head hanging between his legs. Harry and George were pushing Marcus to the sidelines, and Michael was attending to Mike.

"What happened?" Lavender screamed as she reached her husband.

Everyone just stared at the women. Finally, Mike said, "Nothing, just a misunderstanding. Let's get back on our brooms everyone, and continue the game." His lip was swollen, but not too severely.

Hermione walked over to Draco and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. His lip was swollen as well, and blood was running down his face. He also had a cut above his eye, which was already bruised. Marcus must have punched him more than just the punch that was witnessed by Hermione in the stands.

"What happened?" Hermione repeated Lavender's question.

Marcus walked up to Draco and extended his hand. "No harm, no foul, Malfoy?" Marcus asked.

"Not bloody well likely," Draco said. He hit the man's hand away, and stood up and walked off the field, followed by Hermione.

Hermione reached him as he entered the changing rooms and pulled on his arm. "Draco, tell me what happened," she pleaded.

"It's nothing, Granger, go back and watch the game. I'm going home," he said.

"You brought me here and now you're leaving?" she asked.

He sighed and said, "Come home with me, or stay, I don't care, but I'm leaving."

She took his arm and disapparated with him directly to their house. She quietly opened their front doors and walked with him to his flat door. She turned to look at him. He opened the door with his wand. She took his arm, still silent, and walked with him upstairs to his bedroom.

He suddenly felt anxious, and he wasn't sure why, but they were in his bedroom after all. She took his broom from him and threw it on the floor. She said, "Sit on the bed."

"Why? Do you want to get randy?' he asked, with a gleam in his eyes, even the bruised one.

"Don't bother me. That's absurd." She went to the bathroom, found a small basin, filled it with water and found a washcloth. She went back out to the bedroom and he was on his back, on his bed. She started to wipe at his bloody lip, but he took the cloth from her. He winced in pain.

"Oh, look at you, you're a mess." She sat down beside him and took the cloth from his hand. She once more started to wipe the blood from his face.

"Did I mar my good looks?" he asked.

"A bit," she lied.

"Would you still love me if I was horribly disfigured?" he asked with a smirk.

She pressed the cloth against his bloody lip and said, "I don't love you now, so it wouldn't matter if you were ugly and disfigured."

He grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his face. He searched her eyes to see if she was being truthful. He decided that she wasn't. She still loved him, or she wouldn't have come home with him. She was so gentle with him that her actions caused him more pain than the giant fist that hit his face twice. He reached up for her wrist, took the cloth from her hand, threw it to the floor and said, "Leave it, Granger. I'm fine."

She didn't know whether to stand up and leave, or throttle him. She decided instead to do neither. She decided to ask him again what happened. "Draco, please, what did you say to Marcus to cause him to hit you?"

He sat up, his weight on his elbows, and said, "Why do you assume it was my fault?"

She cocked her head to the side, raised her eyebrows, and waited.

"Fine, I just told him that he was a bastard for telling you about Padma and me, and that he was to leave you alone," Draco said. He sat all the way up and put one of his pillows on his lap.

"You're insane! Verifiably insane!" she shouted. She stood up and said, "You should have been the one to tell me about Padma. You know, I work for the paper, but I never look at the stupid society pages, so maybe I should have already known, so blame yourself, or blame me, but not Marcus Flint! He had no idea he was causing us harm!"

"I want it stated for the record book that I was the one that told you about Padma. I told you I was engaged before Marcus did."

"Then you retracted it!"

"But I still told you, and after he blabbed, I was honest with you and told you the truth, and now you're punishing me. I think you're both sadistic and masochistic, and normally, I find those traits appealing, but not in this case," he said, sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed.

She walked over and picked up the washcloth from the floor and then whipped around and threw it at his head, hard. It hit him right on his black eye.

"Damn!" he yelped.

"Draco, please, just leave it alone." She sat down on the edge of the bed. He crawled over to her and moved her hair from her shoulder.

"I don't want to leave it alone. I miss you," he said. He kissed her neck. She once again felt her resolve melt away.

"I miss you, too," she said softly. He moved so that his legs were on either side of hers.

"What can I do to get you back, short of marrying you?" he said sincerely. Marriage would be his last resort. Very last.

"Why are you afraid of a little piece of paper?" she asked, leaning back in his arms to look up at his face.

"Why do you want that same little piece of paper so much?" he asked.

"I asked you first," she said.

He placed his arms tightly around her and moved back and forth in small, miniscule movements. He said, "Okay, here is Draco Malfoy's life, in a nutshell." He cleared his throat and continued, "Here goes. There are reasons that I am the way I am. It's not that I wasn't loved enough as a child. It's not that a woman once left me, which scarred and secretly hurt me. It's simpler."

He stopped talking for a moment, moved away from her and stood up. She stayed on the bed. "I have always looked to my father for guidance, and right or wrong, I worshipped the ground he walked upon. That blind hero worship cost both of us a lot in our lives, but that's our cross to bear. Did you know my parents' marriage was arranged?"

"No," she said.

"Yes, actually, he was originally betrothed to Andromeda, my mother's sister, who ended up disgracing her family when she took up with the Muggle-born Ted Tonks," he explained.

Hermione said sarcastically, "What a disgrace." She stood from the bed.

"After that," he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, "her younger sister, my mother, was pledged to him. As far as I know, they barely knew each other before they married."

"They had always gotten along, no real arguments, but no real passion or love, either. They both loved their family and me, but I wouldn't say that they've ever been in love. Unfortunately, the way wizarding laws are, it's very difficult to ever divorce. When I was about 15 years old, I snuck in my father's den and riffled through the drawers of his desk."

"I found love letters in there. Not written to my mother. Letters he wrote to another woman and letters she had written to him. I also found his journal. Hermione, he spent his entire life in love with another woman, and married to my mother."

"How does that relate to us?" she asked sincerely. "You claim you love me, so why won't you marry me?"

"Because that little piece of paper ruins everything! It's a noose around the neck of the people whose names are on it! Don't you see? I don't want to be that man! I don't want to be told whom I can be with and whom I can't! I do love you, so help me, I do, and if I say I'll be true to you, I will, but Hermione, men cheat on their wives everyday. If I wanted to cheat you on, or leave you, that little piece of paper wouldn't make me stay, so why do you need it?"

Damn if he didn't have a point. Damn him anyway. She sat back down on the bed and placed her head in her hands. "Why are you telling me all of this?" she asked.

"You need to know the truth, Hermione, I know you do." He stood over her, his hand skimming down her hair, to her arm. He reached down for her hand, just as he had been finding excuses to do for the last two months. He needed to touch her as much as he needed air to breath. This time, she didn't pull her hand away. This felt right. This felt familiar. Moreover, she hated that. She hated that she felt weak around him. She hated that she still loved him and probably always would.

He pulled her to stand in front of him. His arms went instinctively around her waist, her arms stayed limp at her side, but she placed her cheek against his chest. "I have no desire to be with anyone but you, but so help me, I don't need marriage. I don't want marriage. But if you tell me you'll walk out this door, and never speak to me again unless I marry you, then I'll marry you."

Was he insane? She looked up in his eyes. She was speechless.

"You're right, you know," he said.

"About what?" she asked. She hadn't even spoken in five minutes, and he had just asked her to marry him, so what did he think she was right about, anyway?

"I was selfish and I'm afraid, in a small sense, of commitment," he said.

"I'm not sure when I said either of those things, but I don't want a marriage proposal like this. It would only make me seem insecure and the selfish one," she reasoned. She pushed away from his chest. "I hope your eye and lip feel better."

She started out of the door that led to the second floor landing when he stopped her. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked, reaching for her hand. She let him easily capture it.

"What, Draco Malfoy?" she asked, her resolve completely broken.

"Just think about what I'm offering. I'm offering you commitment one-way or the other. Think about it." He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "One that you can live with, and one that I can live with, and either way, whichever one you choose, I won't judge you or think less of you." He took two steps until he was flush against her body.

"I remember how you taste," he said, kissing her hand, her wrist, her arm. "I remember how you smell," he said, his nose skimming the skin of her neck. He placed a hand behind her, low on her back, right above her bum. His other hand came around the front, started on her shoulder, and then the fingertips of his hand skimmed lightly across her collarbone to the opening of her sweater, to skim across her breasts. "I remember how you feel." He cupped her left breast gently, just the left one, just for a moment, and then his hand went to the side of it, down her ribs, to her waist.

He pulled the knit material away from her skin. His hand went under the sweater to her skin. "I remember the softness." His lips found hers, and played with them. Small kisses, on the top one, the bottom one, and then both. He didn't prod or probe. He kissed one eye and then the other.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

Hermione was breathing hard, she almost felt like hyperventilating. She pushed away from him. She ran through his door, and he ran after her. He didn't really try to catch her, because he knew she was overwhelmed. He knew she had a lot of thinking to do.

He watched as she slammed her door shut.

He sat outside her door, rapped on it just as he had done earlier, and said, "I'll be out here waiting when you decide." He sat down on the floor to wait.

She slid down the wall next to the door, placed her hands over her face, and her mind went blank. She truly, for perhaps the first time in her life, didn't have a plan. She didn't have a clue what to do. She didn't have a contingency plan. After all that had occurred, she never in a million years thought he would propose.

Out of sight, out of mind, be damned. What was Hermione supposed to do now?

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_He asked me to marry him," she said._

"_What?" he said in surprise. "I hope you said no!"_

"_Well," she said._

"_You said yes?"_

"_No," she clarified, "I didn't really say anything, and to be truthful, he didn't really ask me to marry in so many words."_

"_Well what kind of words did he use, sign language?" he yelled._


	24. 24 A Ton of Feathers

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 24: A Ton of Feathers:**

One time when Hermione was ten years old, her father asked her a question. He asked, "Which would you rather be hit over the head by, a ton of feathers or a ton of bricks?"

Hermione thought for a moment, put her hand on her dad's shoulder, and said, "Ah, Dad, a ton's a ton." She said it in a tone that made it abundantly clear that she felt sorry for her father for not realizing that.

He smiled and said, "I have such a smart girl."

Now that she was older, she was beginning to understand that the answer wasn't as simple as "a ton's a ton." While it was true that a ton of bricks weighed the same as a ton of feathers, and both would probably kill you if they were dropped from the side of a building, they would probably only kill you if they were both compressed into a tight bundle.

If the ton of bricks were made from cardboard, for instance, and were dropped one at a time, it probably wouldn't hurt but for a second.

If the ton of feathers were still attached to birds, it would hurt like hell. It would probably also kill the birds, unless they flew away.

If the ton of feathers rained down on you, softly, wafting beautifully, at graceful intervals, your biggest problem might be a feather in your mouth. Unless you were allergic to the feathers, what would be the harm?

If the ton of bricks were tied with a rope and dropped in a stack of ten, you would end up with a hell of a headache, and possibly with brain damage.

The point was, there were many different scenarios, and nothing in life has ever been black and white, except for a newspaper, which Hermione's father used to joke was black, white and red (Get it?).

Two different marriage proposals were just that; two different things. Just like the ton of bricks and the ton of feathers, they both weighed a ton (they both were marriage proposals), but they were as different as night and day, and they would result in different outcomes: Hermione's happiness or Hermione's dismay.

Michael Corner claimed he still loved her, and Hermione didn't doubt that for a moment. He was humble, sweet, and endearing. She never knew a nicer man. He told her he still would like to marry her someday. They had never even been intimate. They had only kissed a handful of times. Yet, he was romantic, he was good to her, and he made her smile.

All were good things in a husband and almost too good to be true.

Nevertheless, did she want to marry him? Did he really want to marry her? He didn't even really ask her. They were sitting at her kitchen table, eating spaghetti, and she had sauce on her cheek. He laughed, used his thumb to remove the sauce, and then placed his thumb in his own mouth to lick off the sauce, leaving a bit on his bottom lip. For some reason she found that sexy. It caught her off guard for a moment that she would find something he did sexy, after all, weren't they just friends?

She gave him a funny look, and he said, "What?" Hermione stood slightly from her chair, placed one hand on the table, leaned over, and kissed him right on the mouth.

He looked shocked, and when she sat back down, smiled, and said, "Well, you had sauce on your mouth." She was flirting with him, blatantly flirting. She continued to smile.

He smiled as well. While she didn't love him in the way she loved Draco, she found him interesting, attractive and engaging, and she did love him, and perhaps more than as a friend.

After dinner, they sat on the couch and looked over her pictures that she was going to put in her scrapbook for Iggy. They laughed over a few of them, and he kept her little piles in order, which she was thankful for since she had already spent two hours organizing them. That was when he suddenly took the pictures from her hands, placed them on the table, grasped her hands in his and said, "Hermione, are you over Draco yet?"

She licked her lips and stared at their hands. She didn't know what to say. She looked up at him and tried to pull her hands from his, but he held on fast. She thought about how she told Draco she liked it when a man 'captured' her hands, and Michael had definitely captured them.

He said, "'I'm sorry, I know I said I would just be your friend, and I will, no matter what you say. And I also know that you don't want to talk about the whole Draco thing, but know this, my feelings are the same. What I told you two months ago in the hospital still holds true and I wanted you to know that." He leaned over, with one hand on her thigh, the other behind her head on the back of the couch, and he kissed her lips sweetly. Then he stood up, told her goodbye, and left her more stunned and bewildered than she had been in a while.

He had told her in the hospital that he loved her and wanted to marry.

Was that what he meant?

She was too afraid to ask him.

His statement hit her like a ton of feathers. It didn't hurt as much as it made her feel like she was suffocating.

Now, here today, Draco told her that he 'remembered' her. He remembered how she felt, tasted, looked. Well, bully for him! She remembered him, too.

Then, in a step that she would deem desperate, he said, "If it means you will leave me if I don't ask you, then I guess I'll marry you."

What kind of proposal was that? He didn't go down on one knee, (which actually wasn't important to Hermione anyway) and he didn't give her a ring, and he didn't say, "I love you, I can't live without you, and I've changed my mind and I want to marry you."

No, he talked about remembering her. Geesh.

His proposal hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. It blindsided her and left her with a massive headache.

Now he was right outside her door, she was on the other side, and she really felt that she was stuck between a rock (Draco and the bricks), and a _soft_ place, (Michael and the feathers), and she didn't know what to do.

She loved the one that didn't really want to marry her, and she only admired the one that did.

Life wasn't fair.

Hermione knew Draco was still sitting outside her door, just as she was still sitting against the wall on the inside. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but it was long enough that the sun was fading in the sky, the room was becoming darker, and she had a pain in her back. She looked at the clock. Two hours had passed. She reached up for the door handle and opened the door just a crack. Yep, he was still sitting on the floor by her door. He looked in and said, "I thought maybe you died in there."

She didn't look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze on the opposite wall and said, "Michael Corner asked me to marry him, too."

What happened next wasn't quite what she expected.

Draco threw himself in the door, pulled on her arm, turned her around, pushed her on the ground and straddled her body.

"What did you say Corner did?" he yelled.

"He asked me to marry him," she said.

"What?" he shouted in surprise. "I hope you said no!"

"Well," she said.

"You said yes?"

"No," she clarified, "I didn't really say anything, and to be truthful, he didn't really ask me to marry in so many words."

"Well what kind of words did he use, sign language?" he yelled.

"Draco, let me up," she said.

His hands were on her shoulders, his knees beside her hips. He leaned down, almost nose to nose, and said, "What the bloody hell did you say to him?"

"Last night," she began, breathing hard, "we were sitting on the couch, looking at Iggy's pictures, and he told me that what he told me at St. Mungo's two months ago still held true. The only thing he told me at St. Mungo's was that he loved me and wanted to marry me, so I'm assuming that's what he meant."

With slow deliberation, and a calmness in which she found eerie, he leaned closer, if possible, and said, "What…did…you…tell…the…mother fucker?"

"Draco, you're slightly scary like this," she admitted. Although she wasn't afraid of physical harm, she was still alarmed.

He screamed an unintelligible scream and rolled off her. He placed both hands in his own hair and pulled hard. Iggy walked up to him, lay right next to him, and placed his head on Draco's stomach.

Hermione leaned over him, and said, "I didn't say anything to him. I didn't say yes or no."

She fell back down beside him and kicked her door shut with her foot. Iggy was still between them. They both were staring up at the ceiling.

Draco finally spoke first. Without looking at her he said, "You know what I think?"

"I wish I did," she said, wistfully.

"I think you're scared, Hermione," he said. "You're scared of being left behind. You're scared of being the last one to marry. You're scared of how it would appear if you weren't married. You aren't even ready for marriage. You want it for all the wrong reasons."

"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked back.

"That I'm full of it?" he asked.

She looked over at him and said, "That's true, but right now I think you're the one that's afraid."

"Do tell," he said with a smile. He too turned his head. They were now staring at each other.

She said, "I think you're scared of not succeeding at something. You're afraid of failure before you even try. You're afraid of hurting me and yourself, without giving either of us a chance." She turned to her side and placed her head on her hand, leaning up on her elbow.

She continued, "I think you're afraid of having a marriage like your father's, and deep down, you don't want to be anything like your father. Oh, you did at one time, when you were young. You idolized him at one time, but then you grew up, and saw that he wasn't the man you thought he was."

"You want to be a better man, and you're afraid if you marry, you'll have a marriage like he has. You're also afraid to be a father, because you're afraid you'll be a father like yours, and you don't want that. So you would rather spout off lines like, 'I will never marry,' instead of just trusting yourself, and trusting that you are your own man and nothing like your father."

She moved back to her back and stared up at the ceiling again.

"Well, tell me what you really think, Granger," he said after her long tirade.

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, too.

She added, "I think you might have a small point when you say I'm afraid, too."

"And I concede that your insight into my mind might have some foundation of truth," he conceded.

He reached over for her hand. She scooted closer, causing Iggy to move by stepping over Draco's belly. He winced in pain. "That cat needs to go on a diet."

Hermione laughed and cuddled up to Draco's side. She reached over him, to the couch, for a throw pillow. She put it under his head and then she put her head on his chest. He placed both his arms around her.

She reached up and touched his swollen lip. "Do you want me to try to heal your lip and eye?"

"No, I think I will wear my bruises with pride," he said. She laughed and he said, "They will remind me what a fool I was."

"That you picked a fight for no reason?" she asked.

"No, that I picked a fight with the wrong man. I should have warned Corner from you, not Flint. I had no idea Corner was getting so cozy with you. I should have elicited his ire instead of Flint's, because Flint's bigger than me, and I frankly think I could have taken Corner."

"I don't know, Michael seems like he could hold his own," she said truthfully.

"Do you want to marry him, Hermione?" he asked, rubbing his hand on her shoulder.

She reached up for his face and looked at him. "I don't want a loveless marriage." She knew if she married Michael, it would be unfair to him.

"Then stay with me," Draco said.

He didn't say, 'Then marry me,' she noticed. Hermione said, "I don't want a marriage-less love, either."

"I offered you marriage," he said.

"For the wrong reasons," she answered. She tried to stand but he pulled her back down.

"Hermione, I didn't offer you something that I didn't want to offer, okay?" he said. "You didn't force me. If you had told me about the Corner's offer first, and then I offered marriage, it would have seemed desperate. You told me about it afterwards. I meant what I said. I will marry you."

"I don't want you to marry me because you're afraid of losing me," she retorted, her hand flat on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat.

"Isn't that why everyone marries?" he asked. "Doesn't everyone marry because they don't want to be alone, and they don't want to lose the other person? Don't kid yourself into thinking otherwise, Hermione. Desperation is probably behind one half of all marriages."

"I don't believe that," she said. "I think people marry out of a mutual respect for the other, and out of a shared dream. They marry for a lifelong companion and because they want to build a future together."

"Hermione, for a smart woman, you're being either incredibly obtuse, or naïve," he said.

She didn't say anything in return to defend herself.

As they lay on the floor, in each other's arms, he had one thought. 'So what?' So what if it wouldn't last. So what if it ended badly and he lost her forever. Wasn't he about to lose her anyway? Wasn't the fear of losing her a good enough reason to want to marry? Wasn't the loss of her friendship, her companionship, enough of a reason to want to hold onto her anyway he could?

He missed the feel of her body next to his. He missed the rush he felt when she smiled. He missed her warmth and her humour. He missed her and didn't want to carry on without her. Weren't those all valid reasons to marry?

He said, "I miss you and I want to spend every day with you, and honestly, if you need a ring on your finger to make that happen, I'm fine with that, so why are you suddenly shying away? I miss you. I want you back. I want to be part of your life again. You know how selfish I am. It's really all about me and what I want." He smiled down at her at that last statement, and as he suspected, she looked up at him and smiled as well.

"Selfish to the core," she said.

"And proud of it," he said back.

"I miss you, too," she declared.

He turned to look at her and he said, "I think my reasons for wanting to marry you are every bit as real and convincing as your reasons to want to marry me." She started to roll off his chest, but he pulled her back, so she was flush against his chest.

She stared at him, mute, for several minutes. Her resolve was melting. He had made several good points. Was she the one that didn't really want to marry?

He moved to his side, so that her head was on the pillow. He loomed over her and then leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her mouth. He said, "Ouch, my lip does hurt. If you were any sort of fiancée, you would heal my lip so we could kiss and celebrate our engagement." He didn't know if his simple admonishment of her supposed lack of healing him and being a bad fiancée would work. He hoped she would sit up, heal him, and it would be that simple, and she would acknowledge that she was going to marry him just like that.

What happened was slightly different. She sat up, and then stood up. She went and retrieved her wand. She knelt back down before him. He too was sitting. She healed his lip with a simple spell, and then she touched the tip of her wand to his eye and healed that as well. She threw her wand over to the side and said, "There, I did that not out of a sense of obligation, but because I don't want you to be in pain."

"You did it because you love me, and you want to marry me," he said plainly.

"No, I did it because I want another kiss," she remarked with a smile.

"And you love me and want to marry me," he tacked on the end of her sentence.

"I told you, I don't want to get married for the wrong reasons," she repeated.

For the second time that afternoon, he tackled her until she was on her back. "How about getting married for all the right reasons? For all the reasons I stated?"

"Oh, Draco Malfoy," was all she could say.

Draco leaned over her and said, "When I was young, things were simpler. I always got what I wanted. I was selfish, self-centered, and incredibly spoiled. I could ask for things in an off-handed sort of way, and still get what I wanted. If something was difficult or unpleasant, I could just avoid it. Even as I grew older, things were pretty much the same."

He moved again so that he was sitting up, his legs still straddling her as he spoke. "If I saw a pretty witch at a bar, I would buy her a drink, have a couple of laughs, stroke her ego a bit, bring her home and get my physical release, and send her away later, before the night was over. I felt no obligation to ever call them again, and half the time I never even knew their names."

"I never had to think of other's feelings, because mine were the only ones that mattered. I would retreat from unpleasant encounters by either feigning ignorance or innocence."

"I think I felt the same with you at first. I think I was retreating from you because I knew you were different. I knew what I felt for you was different. Sure, that scared me, so it was easier to keep you at arm's length and tell you that we should stay friends. It was easier to deny my feelings than to own up to them."

"Now, I don't want to hide any longer. I want to commit to my feelings. I want to own them. You can't deny me my emotional maturity which I fought so hard to keep at bay, but came to me anyway, Granger. I won't have it."

She smiled at that last statement. He had just opened up to her about his feelings, and she saw no insincerity in his eyes.

He leaned over her, and slowly shifted so that his weight was on her, nudging his legs between hers. He kissed her jaw line with small, hesitant kisses. The soft caress of his lips on her skin could almost make her agree to anything. He buried his hands in her mass of hair and finally brought his face nose-to-nose with hers and said, "I want to marry you because I love you. Is that good enough for you?"

Hermione Granger was just hit with a ton of bricks right in the face, and she survived and she rather liked it. "Yes, yes I will marry you."

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_You've seemed distant," he said._

"_I'm fine, it's your imagination," she said. She pulled her hand from his and went to sit on the bench._

"_Are you having second thoughts?" he asked._

"_Of course not," she said. She wasn't, was she?_

"_I won't allow you to have second thoughts," he stated plainly. He smiled at her and said, "The only one that can have second thoughts around here is me."_


	25. 25 Give a Man a Fish

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 25: Give a Man a Fish, and Give Draco Malfoy a Break:**

There's a Chinese proverb that goes, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

Hermione Granger had a proverb that was similar. It was, "Give a man your heart, and love him for today. Give a man your hand in marriage, and love him for a lifetime."

Draco Malfoy had a similar proverb. It was "Give a woman a half-hearted proposal, she will timidly tell you yes. Give a woman a large ring, and a serious proposal, and she will commit to anything."

Hermione Granger was going to marry Draco Malfoy. He really did ask her, he was not under too much duress when he asked, and she said yes. Now, she had to clarify some things.

Draco was still on top of her, his weight almost crushing her into the floor, when she said, "Yes, yes I will marry you."

He looked confused at first. He regarded her with suspicion. He said, "Repeat that."

"Draco, get off me," she said.

"Not until you repeat that," he repeated.

"Draco, get off me," she said.

"No, you idiot, repeat your answer."

"I said yes," she said. She pushed him off her with all her might. "But, I have a request," she added. She sat up and leaned her back against her couch.

He crawled over and sat beside her. "What, a large square cut emerald ring surrounded by diamonds?"

"No, well, maybe, but that's not what I was going to say," she said.

"What is it?" he asked wearily.

"Let's go on some more dates before we make it official. Maybe a lot of dates. And let's not tell anyone for a while. I would like to get know you better, see what makes you tick," she said.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm not that complicated. I'm not so much like a fine Swiss timepiece as I am an old wind up alarm clock. I'm not as complicated as you may think."

"I don't think you're complicated, but I think you and I have known each other for so long, without really knowing each other that it would be nice to really get to know one another for real," she stated.

He thought that sounded reasonable, and frankly, he wasn't anxious to get married. He thought she was, though. At least she was before now. He didn't mind taking time. He didn't mind waiting. He could postpone a wedding as long as she was his. He moved on his knees, and then climbed up to sit on the couch. She stayed on the floor with her back against the couch. She leaned her head back and smiled at him.

He leaned down and kissed her face sweetly.

They left it like that. She told him she was expected at her parents' for dinner. He rather thought she would invite him, after all, if they were engaged now, officially or not, they would have to get to know each other's families. Nevertheless, she didn't invite him and he didn't pursue it.

The next day, Sunday, he went up to her apartment with a bag of scones and two black coffees.

She wasn't there.

On Sunday afternoon, he went up to invite her out for a nice Sunday stroll.

She wasn't there.

On Sunday evening, he went up and knocked on her door to see if she wanted to pop down for dinner.

Damn, she wasn't there.

This was the oddest engagement Draco had ever imagined. It was one thing to keep it from everyone else, but it almost seemed like she was trying to keep it from him as well. No, what it really almost seemed like was that she was avoiding him.

On Sunday night, he did the unthinkable, he apparated into her flat. She probably didn't know he had the ability to do that, but the wards were set up so Draco could apparate anywhere in the whole building.

He apparated directly in her bedroom, because he half hoped she might be undressing. He chuckled at his own perverseness, if that was even a word. He then walked all around the flat and he only saw Iggy, but he noticed that the cat had fresh water and food down in the kitchen, so she must be home. He went back to the bedroom, to search once more, when his attention was drawn to the French doors that led to the balcony. A brilliant flash of lightning appeared in the sky, illuminating the inside room, and forcing his gaze to the window, where he saw her silhouette.

Another silent burst of light flashed around her before he opened the door. He opened it silently, or at least, as quietly as he could. Once outside, he heard the distance thunder. There was no rain, not yet, but another flash of lightning. He walked over to where she leaned against the balcony ledge, she turned her head to look at him, and he asked, "Where have you been all day?"

"My parents' house," she said. She turned around so she was no longer looking at him. Why did he feel strange about that? He walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Come back inside, the lightning is dangerous," he said.

"You go on," she answered. "I need to think."

He looked up at the sky as another flash, followed by another roar, went off overhead.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, really," she said. She had yet to look at him.

He licked his dry lips and pulled on her arm to force her to look at him. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"Do you not want to be together? Is that it? Are you having doubts?" he asked. He really couldn't think of any other reason why she would be so reserved and pensive. He also couldn't imagine that a woman who was so resolved to be married that she broke up with him only months before, could now be having second thoughts, yet that was the only conclusion he could fathom upon seeing her so preoccupied and distant.

She sighed and it seemed that the weight of the world was upon her. He pulled her into his arms. "Is that it?" he asked softly, his hands stroking her back up and down in a calming fashion.

"No," she said, her voice reverberating against his chest, as he held her close. She pushed away from him again, but took his hand.

"You've seemed distant," he remarked.

"I'm fine, it's your imagination," she said. She pulled her hand from his and went to sit on the bench.

"Are you having second thoughts?" he asked again.

"Of course not," she said. She wasn't, was she?

"I won't allow you to have second thoughts," he stated plainly. He smiled at her and said, "The only one that can have second thoughts around here is me."

"Are you? Having second thoughts that is?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said plainly. That statement shocked even him. My goodness, when did that happen? He actually wanted to marry her. He really did. He felt the need to express his feelings so he said, "I think we just need to learn to be ourselves. I think we just need time to heal from the hurt. I think it's time we became friends again, first and foremost, and let our love grow from that point. That's always been what I wanted the most."

She didn't say anything to that statement. She looked up as another flash of light lit the night sky. How could she tell him that she felt guilty for forcing him to propose? For that was what she felt. She gave him no other option, and now she felt guilty.

"Let's go on a date," he said, "right now."

"It's almost ten o'clock at night," she said.

"So?"

"I have to work tomorrow," she said.

"Don't be an old stick in the mud," he said. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure and fun? Aren't you the one that said we should date and get to know each other better?" He pulled her up from the bench, took both her hands, and said, "Dance with me, Granger."

She smiled and chuckled. "Is this my date?"

"It's mine too, and I want to dance, with the thunder as our music and the lightning as our mood lighting. What do you say?" he asked.

Her response was to smile.

As a result, they started swaying back and forth to music that didn't exist. The thunder grew louder, the lightning more severe, and they stood outside, exposed to the elements, in complete silence, in each other's arms.

Hermione **was** having second thoughts. She didn't like that she was, but she was. She was happy that he finally wanted to marry her, and while that was what she wanted, too, somehow she just knew that he was forced into it. Would he come to regret his decision? Would he come to resent her for forcing him to make this decision?

She had to prove to Draco Malfoy that marriage between them was a good idea, and that a happy ending was in the cards for them, but first, she had to convince herself of that. She knew she wanted to be married someday. She always had. That didn't mean she had to get married today, tomorrow, or even in a year. She just wanted to get married someday. It would make her happy. She was a complete and happy person to begin with, so marriage would just make her more so.

She had made such an error, almost a fatal one, when she backed him in the corner the first go round. She made him feel like he had to ask her to marry him to keep her. The problem was, she had begun to believe that as well.

That wasn't the truth. Her heart believed it to be so, now she just had to convince her head.

She lifted her head from his shoulder as the first raindrops began to fall. She said, "We must be crazy." She took his hand and led him inside. She started to pace back and forth like a caged animal. She said, "Draco, what do you really want, deep in your heart?"

"A full head of hair and the ability to still have an erection when I'm seventy years old," he said. She turned to him, mouth agape, and he seemed perfectly serious. She began to laugh.

He laughed as well and said, "Well, you asked."

"What do you want when it comes to us?" she clarified, sitting on the bed.

He sat beside her and started with, "A full head of hair and the ability…" but he got no further. She pushed him off the bed.

She laughed some more and said, "Be serious."

He looked up at her from the floor and said, "Believe me, when I talk about my hair and Mr. Happy, I am always serious."

She laid on her belly on the bed, peered over the edge at him as he lay on the floor and asked, "Mr. Happy?"

"That's his name, however, I wouldn't mind if you gave him a new one. Do you want to name him, now?" he asked.

"Who named him Mr. Happy?" she asked.

"I did, but since he will belong partially to you after we marry, you might want to find a new nickname," he said with a lascivious grin.

"Mr. Happy, huh?" she said. She thought for a moment, her hand rubbing his chest absentmindedly and said, "I can't come up with a single thing, sorry."

"Not even one?" he asked.

"The Little Snake?" she asked.

"LITTLE!" he screamed, sitting up. He stood suddenly and jumped on the bed, trapping her under his body, her front pressed into the mattress.

"You have been very physical with me lately," she said with a muffled voice. "Please, get off."

"Apologize, or suffer the consequences," he said.

"Should I apologize to you or him?" she asked.

He rolled off her and sat up on the bed. She rolled to her back and he said, "I think you should confront him face to face and apologize."

"You're not right, are you? Did your mummy drop you on your head when you were a baby?" she asked.

"I doubt if my mother even held me when I was a baby," he answered.

She propped herself up on her elbows, and he mirrored her, facing her, his head propped on his hand.

"That's just sad."

"No, that's a lie, Granger. You are so gullible that it's pathetic," he said. "Now, what name have you decided?"

She pushed on his shoulder, pushing him to his back. She leaned over him and said, "How about, Willy Wonka?"

He laughed and said, "That's a Muggle movie!"

"I know. When I was little, I thought it sounded like a dirty name. I don't know why. I guess I had a weird sense of humour. When I was little, I watched that movie, and I swear, the character of Veruca Salt always reminded me of you. Spoiled rotten to the core, and a father who would do anything for them, whether it was good for them or not," she said.

"I can live with that," he said seriously. "I mean, I am slightly appalled you equated me with a little girl, but the rest really does fit my upbringing, so I'm fine with the comparison. If you were a character from that movie, you would probably be Mike Teevee. A little know-it-all, annoying, brat," he said.

She was quiet for a moment, and then nodded her head. "I can live with that," she repeated what he said.

"The whole Weasley family would be the Oompa Loompas, because of their ginger hair," he said.

She looked confused for a moment and said, "I think they had green hair and their skin was orange, so I'm not sure about that one."

"How about because there were so many of them? That's a fair comparison," he declared.

"No, I still don't see it," she said. "They would be more like the Bucket family, poor but happy."

"Whatever," he said with a sigh. "Although the phrase 'poor but happy' is an oxymoron."

"Better than just being a moron," she said with a grin.

"Don't call yourself names," he retorted with a grin to match hers.

She just smiled and asked, "Who would Harry be?"

"Probably Charlie Bucket. Annoying, self-righteous, moralistic, and in the end, he saves the fucking day," Draco said.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Dumbledore would have been Willy Wonka. Slightly mad and with a slight father complex to Charlie," Hermione surmised.

"I think Willy had a sick crush on little Charlie Bucket. I think he was a right old letch, and possibly a child molester in the making," Draco said.

"That's not true, take that back!" she shouted. She was appalled.

"That's how I saw it. There's a parallel between Willy and Charlie and Dumbledore and Potter, after all," he said.

She looked like he hit her in the gut. She hit his arm, very hard, and said, "There was nothing perverted about Dumbledore and Harry's relationship!"

"Oh, I'm not so sure. I think the old Flamer had a thing for Potter that extended beyond a fatherly feeling," Draco sneered with a wicked grin.

She took a deep breath in and hit him again. She climbed on his body, straddling his hips with her knees, and hit his chest several times with her open hands. "Stop that! Dumbledore's love for Harry was platonic and fatherly, and he wasn't gay!"

"Oh, yes, he certainly was," Draco said with a laugh.

"NO HE WASN'T!" she said, hitting him again. This time he placed his hands up to block her hits.

"Not the face, Granger, that's my bread and butter," he stated. She stopped hitting him and he said, "And he really was a poof. Did you not know, really?"

"I think you've totally rocked my very soul with that information, and I don't think I will ever get over the shock if that's true. There's nothing wrong with being gay, but there was never any indication that Dumbledore was gay, so why tell me now?" She got off his body to lie back on her side, facing him, still in a state of shock.

She did look slightly traumatized, so to lighten the mood Draco asked, "Who would have been Augustus Gloop?"

Hermione smiled and then at the same time as Draco, they both said, "Crabbe!"

They both started laughing. She cuddled up against his chest and he stroked her arm.

"I miss these types of moments. Friendship moments," he said.

"Lovers can be friends. Lovers should be friends. Married people should be best friends," Hermione said.

"Then you should have married Potter," Draco said with a laugh.

She leaned up on his chest, looked in his eyes and said, "You're my best friend now, not Harry."

He thought that was the nicest thing she had ever said to him. It might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. He kissed her lips slowly, pressing her down on the bed, on her back. His lips lingered on hers for a moment and he said, "I've never had a best friend before."

"That's part of your problem," she said, jokingly.

However, he thought she was serious, and he couldn't agree more.

Would marriage mean that he would spend the rest of his life with his best friend? If that was the case, then he should have agreed to marry her a while back. He could get used to being married to his best friend. Marriage to his best friend would mean that he would never be lonely again. He would always have someone to talk to, who would listen, offer advice, and perhaps make fun of him from time to time. He could even make fun of her from time to time, and have a good laugh.

"Granger, I need to do something," he said suddenly, climbing over her body.

He started down the hall toward her door. She stood up and followed. "Where are you going? I thought you might want to spend the night."

"I'll be back," he said.

She stood in her living room, confused. Draco ran down the stairs, only to come back a short while later.

He grabbed her hand and got down on one knee. Her eyes widened, and her heart beat loudly in her ears. She even felt a rush of nausea hit her. Was he doing what she thought, hoped, wanted, him to do?

He said, "Hermione Granger, I love you more than life itself. You are my best friend in the world, and I would be honoured, and frankly appalled if you said no, but I would be honoured if you would consent to be my bride." He took a small box out of his pocket. He opened it up. Inside was large, square cut, emerald ring, surrounded by diamonds in a platinum setting. Just like the ring he had described earlier. It looked to be an antique.

He placed the ring on her finger. It was too large. He would fix that later. It belonged to his grandmother Black, and she was a considerably 'large' woman in her day.

"Where did you get the ring, Malfoy?" she asked.

"Is that your answer?" he asked back, still on one knee.

"Did you just happen to have this in your possession the whole time?" she inquired.

He rolled his eyes, stood up, and placed his hand over her mouth. He said, "Nod for yes, shake your head for no. Those are your only two options."

She nodded.

He smiled.

He was getting married to his best friend and for the first time it felt right. He pulled her into his arms and swung her around.

Hermione looked at the ring on her finger as he twirled her around and thought one thing… 'This is really real now. I'm getting married.'

* * *

_Coming up: _

"_You know, if you hadn't taken me back soon, I was the one that was going to beg to you. I would have gotten down on my knees and pleaded with you to take me back."_

_To his surprise, and with her eyes still closed, she said, "I'm glad it didn't get to that point. I find begging an unattractive quality."_

_He chuckled and said, "I rather enjoy for people to beg. I know I love it when you finally said please."_

_She said, "Shut up and go to sleep."_


	26. 26 The Path Not Taken

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 26 - The Path Not Taken:**

Robert Frost wrote a poem about 'the path not taken'. It literally meant that when a person comes to a fork in the road, they need to decide which path to take. Should they take the familiar road, the one in which they know is smooth and steady? The one that is well traveled and secured?

On the other hand, perhaps they should take the road less traveled, less safe, where the end is unknown, but also, one which may never come their way again.

The poem is an analogy of the choices people must make in their everyday life. It speaks of regrets that the traveler feels at not traveling the road not taken, because he knows he may never cross that path, and he might miss something good if he takes the safe route.

Draco Malfoy was determined not to take the wrong road. He had lived his life thus far on the familiar road. The road with no 'yield' signs, no bumps in the road, and where everything was recognizable and well known.

Now, he was willing, ready, and able, to take the road not taken, the path not traveled, the insecure road. A great man once said that there was nothing to fear but fear itself. He had been afraid, for such a long time, and when he was asked to describe his fear, he really couldn't, because he was just afraid of fear, and now he wasn't. So what if the unfamiliar road was bumpy? So what if the unfamiliar road had detours? So what if the unfamiliar road wasn't on the map? At least he wouldn't have to walk it alone, because he had Hermione Granger by his side.

Hermione said yes to his marriage proposal, for real this time. Well, she might have said it for real the first time, but the first proposal wasn't genuine, not the 'real McCoy', and this time, it was. This time, he meant it. He wanted her to marry him.

He slipped the ring back off her finger, since it was so large, and said, "I'll have it sized tomorrow, okay?"

She smiled. Then, she jumped up and down, squealed in delight, and said, "I'm getting married!"

He gave her a funny look and said, "Did it just hit you?"

She pushed on his shoulder and said, "No, it just hit you, silly, so now it feels real."

The fact that she realized what he had just realized enthralled him. He placed the ring in his pocket and walked up to her. She backed away. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "How about some make up sex?"

"Make up sex is for when people fight," she said.

"How about some, 'Hello, I've missed you,' sex?" he asked.

"Well, sure, that one's a given," she said.

There was an unspoken expectation between them. They both were now on the same page, at the same time, wanting the same thing, and it thrilled them both. It brought their relationship to a completely new level.

He cocked his head to the side, his mouth in a wicked grin, and he removed his shoes and unbuckled his belt.

"We can't have sex in the living room, in front of Iggy," she said.

"Iggy can watch. I don't care. I might teach him a thing or two," he said, his grin still present, his shirt now falling on the floor.

"He's been neutered. He doesn't care about such things anymore," she said, walking backwards toward the hallway. She removed her jumper and threw it on the floor. He walked facing her, unbuckling his trousers.

She continued to walk backwards, within arms length, and was now slipping off her shoes.

"I've missed you," she said.

"I've missed you, more," he regaled.

"I've missed this," she decided.

"Getting undressed?" he asked. He had her backed into the bedroom. He was now down to his skivvies, and she was standing in a red bra and knickers. "Hey, did you have those on all day?"

"Yes," she said.

"I knew you looked especially pretty today," he said. He thought she look quite tempting in her little red, lacey undergarments. "Red suits you, but I would like them better on the floor, than on you."

She reached around and removed her bra. Before she removed it from her shoulders, she said, "Tell me why I should continue."

"Because if you don't remove it, I will," he answered.

He slipped out of his silk boxers. She looked at him, all of him. She couldn't help it really, since it was sort of 'out there' for the world, or at least her, to see.

"I think I'll call him 'Little Willy'," she said, looking from his male anatomy back up to his face.

He frowned slightly and then did something that made her laugh. He stroked himself once and said, "Don't listen to the stupid woman, Mr. Happy."

He reached over, grabbed her bra in the center, his fingers lightly brushing her cleavage, and pulled it off her shoulders, throwing it on the floor. He gave her one hard push and she fell down on the bed. She moved toward the center of the bed, and he reached for her knickers, pulled them off her hips, and threw them over his shoulders. He said, "Mr. Happy is now Mr. Ecstatic."

"I think Mr. Happy looks sad, all alone, like that," she said. She reached out for him and he closed his eyes and moaned. He leaned toward her, breathing in her smell, his face in the crook of her neck. He kissed her lightly on the neck.

He kissed her ear next, and then whispered, "I think I will make you beg."

"I don't beg, for anyone, Draco Malfoy," she said, pushing against his chest, a gleam in her eyes.

"You'll beg for me," he said. He licked her collarbone, and then all the way down between her breasts to her navel and back up again. He kept his body off hers with his arms, so only his lips and mouth was touching her. He finally brought one hand slowly down her shoulder, over one breast, down her ribs, to her waist, and stopped on her hip. He squeezed her hip slightly, and said, "Beg, Hermione."

"No," she said.

He saw how it was. It was all about a power thing for her. She didn't want to appear weak, and she wanted to remain in control. Well, no matter. He would have her saying 'please' and even 'thank you' in no time. He moved back up her body, moaned deep in his throat, and kissed her mouth. He moved his lips, like an expert, on top of hers. Soon, it was a battle of tongues, teeth and lips, and neither was likely to call a truce anytime soon.

His tongue was deep in her mouth when he lowered his body on hers. His erection was hard against her lower belly. His hands kneaded her breasts, and then his mouth came down and licked each breast, one long lick on each, and then he took an erect nipple in his mouth, sucked hard, and then bit down lightly.

She felt the jolt directly between her legs, and her mind began to go fuzzy as she entered into a sex-induced haze. She moved her head to the side, opened her eyes to watch him as he ravished one breast and then the other.

Her apex ached to be touched. It felt as if it was in physical pain, and only the touch of his skin, his mouth, his hand, his body inside her, could ease that ache.

That didn't mean she was going to beg, however.

Hermione Granger never begged or pleaded. No, she was much too smart for that. She decided she would make him beg. She tried to push him over to his back, but as if he could read her mind he took her hands in one of his, put them over her head and said, "I won't let you take control of this, Granger. I'm in control, just for now." He kissed her hard on the mouth again and said, "Look, aren't you pleased that I captured your hands? Oh, and aren't you going to say please?"

She shook her head no. He spoiled her plan, so now, she wouldn't say please no matter what. She was certain she could hold out longer than he could. Surely, she could.

He hovered over her and said, "Many long nights I would lie awake and think about how I wanted to touch you again." He let go of her hands and drew one of his between her breasts. He let it slip lightly between her legs, and he applied gentle pressure, but that was all.

He said, "I would imagine using my hands to roam your body." As if to illustrate, his hand went up and down her body, from her knee, to her thigh, to her hip, over a breast, to her neck.

"I would imagine my mouth doing the same." He leaned over her, and kissed the same path on the other side of her body, with his mouth, starting at the knee, to the thigh, to the hip, over the pelvic bone and lower abdomen this time, up to one breast, where he suckled a moment, and then to her neck.

Damn, it was hard for her to keep quiet. She almost let a 'please' escape her lips. He was good, she would give him that.

His hand dipped down between her legs and said, "I would imagine filling you up with my body, stretching you to the limit, driving into you hard, and having you scream my name. If you won't say please, Hermione, at least say my name." He dipped one finger inside her, but didn't move it.

She had to concentrate on not moving her hips.

He repeated, "Say my name." He kissed her lips, then one breast again, and then he moved his hand slightly, the finger inside her going deeper.

She gasped audibly.

He knew this was going to be good. He was up for the challenge.

She was trembling slightly, and a fine layer of sweat covered them both. "When I was alone at night, missing you, I wondered how your body would respond to my touch, my kiss, my body. Show me how it responds, Hermione."

"Oh, no," she said breathlessly, as his hand moved in a steady rhythm now, this thumb pressing on the opening of her cleft, two fingers now inside.

She felt intoxicated by him. He kissed her breasts again, placing the hard pink tip of one in his mouth, keeping it there while his hand moved below, and then he brought his hand up from between her thighs, removed his mouth from her breast, looked in her eyes and said, "What's the magic word, Hermione?"

"I won't play a power game with you, Draco," she said, although she could barely speak.

He laughed, deep in his throat, and leaned over her and said, "Who are we kidding, Granger? When it comes to life, you beat me with aces. You're smarter than I am; you're better looking than I am, and you're braver and a kinder person. You have more friends, and a compassion for people and things I'll never understand. You have me beat in every aspect of life except one. Only I can make you beg for this. Only I can make you beg to come. It's such a little thing to give me, Hermione." He was smiling. She opened her eyes to look in his.

"Just beg for me, once. Throw me a bone, so to speak, not that I need one, as hard as I am," he said with a laugh.

His hand went back between her legs and started moving lightly over her, as his lips went to her neck, kissing everywhere.

Oh, hell, whom was she kidding? She **was** better at him when it came to most things, but he wasn't wrong when he said he could make her come better than she could herself. Damn him.

Draco moved his mouth down her body, his hands now on her waist. He kissed her lower stomach, her hips, her thighs, her inner thighs, but kept his mouth away from her center. He blew on her and she almost climaxed just from that.

"I won't ask again, Hermione," he said, still with that same devilish grin on his face. "Last chance, and then the offer will be taken off the table, and I'll go home and see you tomorrow, and we'll try again." He really hoped she conceded soon, because he couldn't keep this charade going on much longer, and he sure as hell wasn't leaving her now, no matter what he told her and no matter what she said.

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "You and that damn salacious grin!"

"I don't even know what that means. See, you even have a better vocabulary than I do. Just say, please, just once," he said. He dragged his tongue back over her belly, and this time, he placed it lightly at her opening, but withdrew it just as fast.

Hermione sucked in her breath as Draco grasped her hips and placed his mouth next to her. She felt his hot breath on her and she thought she would die. Who would care if she said please? It didn't mean anything. It didn't make her weak. Actually, the more she justified it in her head, the more she thought she was really the one in control. She could say please, and have whatever she wanted, or she could not say a thing, and neither would have pleasure. See, she really was the one in control. She just wouldn't tell Draco that.

She finally said, "Please, Draco." It was a barely above a whisper, but it was sincere, and he knew it and so did she.

His tongue dipped deep inside almost before she finished saying his name. She couldn't help but move her hips as he moved his mouth against her. He suddenly sat up and said, "Say it again, if you want me to go further."

"Damn you, Draco!" she said. No bloody way. She kicked out at him but he laughed.

"I was joking," he said as he grabbed her chin. He kissed her mouth again, a soul searching kiss, plunging his tongue in deep, his erection rock hard, and pressed against her. Her hands went to his shoulders, as his mouth moved to the nape of her neck, then her shoulder. His hands moved to her hips, and he hooked his hand behind one knee and moved it up on his hip. He positioned himself at her opening and started to press himself inside, slowly, a fraction at a time.

She had been ready for release for a long time, that just the feel of him inside her almost made her come. As if sensing this, he pulled out, completely, and said, "Not so fast, Granger." He grabbed her hands again and this time, kissed her a long, passionate kiss on the mouth. Then he said, "I can't wait, either." He was almost breathless by this time.

He eased himself inside her again, and he began to move. Hermione placed the same leg back over his hip and moved up to meet him, as he moved down on top of her.

He moved faster and deeper, going deep inside of her, and as a sense of bliss started to surround them both, and they both knew they were near their release, Hermione screamed out, "Please, Draco!" There, he had her begging again. Would that make him happy? She wasn't even aware she said it.

He was acutely aware that she said it again, and that one request from her caused his release to start. He moaned loudly in her ear as she crested, and climaxed, and he followed right along with her. He collapsed on top of her when they finished, and said in her ear, between deep breaths, "I knew I could make you beg."

She hit his shoulder, but it was half hearted. She could barely move. He rolled off her and came to rest beside her. Their arms and legs tangled together, and he pulled the blankets on top of them. Iggy jumped up on the bed to lay down by their feet.

Draco looked at the fat cat and said, "Did you learn anything, boy?" Iggy looked at Draco and then jumped off the bed.

"Stupid cat," Draco said. He looked down at Hermione and she was already sleeping. He said, "That's right, Hermione. Sleep. Here in my arms. It's where you belong, and I'm so glad I finally figured that out, before it was too late. I'm glad I took the right path." He moved her hair from her forehead and kissed it. He was so happy that he took the right road, and that she was there to help him read the road signs. For the first time, it really felt right.

He studied her for several more minutes, to make sure she was really asleep, and then he said, "You know, if you hadn't taken me back soon, I was the one that was going to beg you to do so. I would have gotten down on my knees and pleaded with you to take me back, one way or another, ring or not."

To his surprise, and with her eyes still closed, she said, "I'm glad it didn't get to that point. I find begging an unattractive quality."

He chuckled and said, "I rather enjoy for people to beg. I know I loved it when you finally said please."

She said, "Shut up and go to sleep."

The next morning she woke up and Draco was leaning over her, with a cup of coffee in his hand. He smiled at her, cupped her cheek, offered her the cup, and said, "I have a surprise for you for after work, and you don't even have to say please. Take a nice dress with you to work, and change there, and I'll pick you up right at 6:00 pm, okay?"

"Where are we going?" she asked, rubbing her eyes as she sat up to accept the cup of coffee.

"Are you hard of hearing? I said it was a surprise," he said. "Remember, we're going to date and all, since we're engaged now. Still a bit backwards in my book, but I don't mind. I'm getting your ring sized today, too, okay?"

She smiled and drank some coffee. He said, "A nice dress, okay, because this place is kind of fancy."

"Okay."

"Maybe you should go buy something new," he added, heading toward the door.

"I have nice clothes," she said.

"I'll send a dress over by courier, okay?" he said, ignoring her comment.

She shook her head and threw a pillow at him.

Around five o'clock, a courier came by with a package. Inside were a very pretty, black dress, black stockings, black bra and knickers, and black shoes. Well, he almost thought of everything, didn't he? She went ahead and dressed, and when she went back to her office, she found her friend Joe Mullins sitting there.

He whistled at her. "Hot date?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she said.

"Michael?" he quizzed.

"No," she said hesitantly.

"Not Flint, is it?" he said. "I really don't like that caveman, although I wouldn't kick him out of my bed if I found him there."

"I doubt you would find him there, and no, it's not Marcus."

"Oh, I see." He stood up. "Hermione has a new boyfriend!" he said in a singsong voice. "Oh how exciting! Will I get to meet him? Is he good looking? How about rich? I know he must be smart, or you wouldn't go out with him, so I won't even ask if he's smart."

Hermione went over to her desk to freshen up her makeup and said, "He is rather rich, very good looking in my opinion, and smart."

"What's his name, what's his name? Don't keep me in suspense!" Joe asked, sitting on the edge of her desk.

She looked up at him and said, "No, I want to keep this one quiet, and see what happens." That wasn't really far from the truth, since they decided not to tell people about the engagement yet.

"Give me a hint," he said. "What does his name rhyme with?"

She thought for a moment and wondered, what _did_ rhyme with his name? Perhaps she could give him an anagram instead. No, she couldn't think of one of those right off the top of her head either. As she sat and thought, Joe was staring at her as if she had two heads.

She finally gasped and said, "I thought of one, 'A Dam Fool Cry'!"

"WHAT?" he asked.

She looked crestfallen, because she thought that was a good one, but then she realized she never told him she was going to use the anagram hint. He still thought she was using a rhyme. She said, "It's an anagram for his name."

"A what-a-gram?" he asked.

Draco walked in and said, "An anagram, Einstein. A word or phrase that contains all the letters of another word or phrase, but in a different order."

Hermione smiled. He was smart, even if he didn't know what salacious meant.

Joe looked from Draco to Hermione to Draco, then back to Hermione finally, and said, "What?"

"Never mind, it rhymes with Maco Drafoy," she said, knowing he already figured out it was Draco.

"NO WAY!" Joe yelped, hopping off her desk.

Draco had no idea what they were discussing, but he walked around the desk, past Joe and took her hand. "You look lovely."

"You still haven't told me where we're going," she said.

Joe screamed, "NO BLOODY WAY!" again.

"What's wrong with him?" Draco whispered.

"NO FUCKING BLOODY WAY!" Joe screamed, stamping his foot.

"He has tourette's syndrome," Hermione lied. She looked at Joe and said, "Did you forget your medicine today, love?" She patted his cheek, took Draco's hand, and said, "Where are we going?"

They started out the door, but Joe grabbed Hermione's other hand, pushed Draco out the door, locked the door and said, "Hermione, please tell me you are not dating him again!"

"Okay, I won't tell you that," she said.

"HERMIONE!" he warned.

'Well, we aren't exactly dating…" she began.

He took a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Then she finished her statement, "…we're engaged."

He pushed her back with both hands and said, "NO!"

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Draco pocketed his wand and said, "Next time, lock it with magic, Einstein."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Joe screamed.

"What shall I call you, Nancy?" Draco asked sarcastically.

Joe stomped his foot again and said, "Hermione, you cannot be engaged to that prat!"

"She is, Mullins, so get over it," Draco spat. "I'm sorry, I know you wanted me for yourself, but I'm taken," he added with a wink to Hermione. "Shall we go, Hermione? We don't want to be late."

Draco took one hand, and Joe took the other. They pulled on her, almost as if they were playing tug-of-war.

"Let her go," Draco said, pulling one of her hands.

"Go to hell," Joe said, pulling on her other hand.

"I don't want to fight you," Draco said.

"Then go away and find some dumb bimbo who doesn't want to marry you, because that's what you deserve!" Joe said back. He pulled hard on her arm and Draco let go at the same time (to hit the man), and Joe and Hermione both ended up on the floor.

Hermione rolled off Joe and Draco gave her his hand. Hermione said, "Seriously, Joey, what's your problem?"

He sat on the floor, looked up at her, and said, "He's my problem. He will break your heart again!"

She sighed and leaned down and kissed the top of his head. She said, "Be a good boy and go home. I know what I'm doing. Draco's had a change of heart. He really wants to get married now."

Draco looked smugly down at the other man and said, "Yeah, Einstein. I want to marry her now!" He patted the other man's head condescendingly. He took Hermione's hand and headed toward the floo. Hermione looked back once and smiled at Joe, a smile that was a cross between an apology and a 'please understand'.

Joe stood up and was determined to go find Lavender and Mike, and maybe even Harry Potter. They would knock some sense into her, even if they had to bang her head against the wall!

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_Why are you in the cloakroom?" he asked with a laugh. _

"_Oh, is this the cloakroom? I thought it was the bathroom," Hermione said._

"_If that's the case, I hope that's not my coat you are hiding behind," he said with another laugh. "Tell me that lie again. Why are you in the cloakroom?" he asked. "Did you really mistake it for the lavatory?" _

"_Draco, I can't go back out there and face your parents. I faced the Dark Lord and was less scared than I am now," she admitted. Fine! Hermione was afraid. She was big enough to admit it!_

_He laughed and said, "If I have to go to Muggleville and meet your parents, you have to come out of the cloakroom and meet mine."_

"_Is she stealing our coats, Draco?" His father asked from the hall._


	27. 27 Insanity, what else is new?

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 27: Insanity, what else is new?**

Albert Einstein once said that insanity was doing the same thing repeatedly, yet expecting different results. While that was an appropriate definition of insanity, it was also a very good definition of stupidity. If there was one thing that Hermione Granger definitely would never be, it was stupid.

So why was she hiding in a cloakroom? That was stupid. She reflected back on the events of the last hour and knew that it was time to face the enemy, and therefore it was time to come out of the closet, in a manner of speaking.

Earlier that evening, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger walked down Diagon Alley holding hands, and Draco Malfoy felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time. In fact, he felt something he had seldom ever felt in his life, true and utter happiness.

He looked over at the woman who held his hand and he felt something else. He felt a mild possessiveness for the woman beside him. He was very familiar with that emotion. He felt possessive about a great many things. Growing up he was possessive with his belongings, books, toys, and brooms. As an adult, he was possessive about his time, his solitude, his money, and every aspect of his life in general. He was self-centered and self-involved and those things worked well for him.

Until now. Suddenly, his life involved and revolved around another human being, and he was possessive of that human being. That human being was Hermione Granger.

He had never felt possessive toward a human being before. He was sure Hermione would not take kindly to the fact that he thought of her as 'his' so he would keep that little emotion to himself. He was also sure that Hermione would not be pleased that he was taking it upon himself to move their engagement along, especially since it took him so long to become accustomed to it. However, now that he was certain of his feelings, he didn't see the reason to draw things out. He wanted to move them along. He wanted his life with her to start. He just wanted…her. Yes, he felt possessive of her, and in his mind that was a good thing.

Drawing him out of his thoughts she said, "Are we almost there? You haven't told me where we're going."

"We're almost there," he answered. They arrived at their destination just as those words escaped his mouth. He smiled and said, "I hope you're hungry."

"Oh, I've heard very nice things about this restaurant," she said, adding, "Michael wanted to bring me here, but I told him it was too expensive."

He dropped her hand and glared at her.

"What?" she asked, truly wondering what she said to draw his indignation.

"Can we make a pact right now never to mention Michael 'the prick' Corner's name ever again?" he asked, slightly irritated.

She laughed and said, "That may be difficult since he's my friend. I also might remind you that he was your friend before he was mine."

"Well, don't remind me, and don't say his name, at least for tonight," Draco said. She started in the door, but he took her arm. "Why didn't you want Michael 'the twat' Corner to bring you here? He can afford it. He makes a good living."

"I didn't want to feel beholden toward him," she admitted. "I don't mind you bringing me."

He smiled and leaned toward her and said, "Because you don't mind feeling indebted toward me?"

She hit his arm and said, "No silly, because you have so much more money than Michael does, and I don't mind if you spend it frivolously, because you haven't worked that hard for it."

He huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

She stroked his cheek and said, "I'm joking. Let's go inside. I can't wait to go in, since I've never been here before."

He continued to stare at her. She cocked her head to the side, reached up and touched his cheek again, withdrew her hand and smiled wider. He smiled. She was using 'the old cheek touching' thing and it was working marvelously on him. He said, "I've never been here either. I'm glad my first time is with you." He grabbed her arm again and started in the door. He led her inside and he walked over to a podium where a beautiful witch stood and said, "Malfoy table." Then he helped her off with her coat, took off his, and handed them across a counter to a young witch who stood just inside a small cloakroom.

The other woman waited for them at the door. He walked up to her, Hermione's hand still clasped in his, and said, "I'll find the table, thank you."

They weaved in and out of the tables and Hermione asked, "How will you find our table?"

He winced. He had hoped she hadn't noticed that. He stopped suddenly, which in turn caused her to stop and run into his back. He turned to her, looking over his shoulder for a moment, and said, "It's my regular table." That was lie number one. He had told her the truth earlier when he said that he had never been here before.

He started to pull her through the crowd again, when this time she stopped cold in her tracks. He was forced to stop, also. He turned back to face her again just as she was saying, "You said you've never been here before. How can you have a regular table?"

He turned away from her. Why, oh why, was he in love with a woman with more than half a brain? He decided not to answer, and she really couldn't make him do so.

Suddenly, Hermione hissed, "Draco?"

Once more, he turned to her. "What?"

"Let's go eat somewhere else," she said.

"I thought you wanted to eat here," he responded.

"Well, now I want to go elsewhere," she answered. She took her hand from his and turned around. He turned her to face him.

"Why?"

"I just saw your mother and father sitting at a table toward the back of the room," she said.

Of course she did. They were meeting his parents here. She didn't know it, but they were. "So?" he said.

"Well, I don't want them to see us," she explained.

"We have nothing to hide. You aren't ashamed of me, are you?" he said.

She laughed, which surprised him, and she explained. "That's a stupid thing to say. Why would I be embarrassed of YOU in front of YOUR parents?"

That made sense, too. She was book-smart **and** she had common sense. Two strikes against her, in Draco's opinion. He had to try another approach. "Perhaps they won't see us." Lie number two.

"I think they already saw us," Hermione said, ducking her head.

"Then it would be rude not to go up and saw hello," he answered. He took her hand again. He wondered, as he led her to the table, if she had already figured out the truth.

"Did you plan this?" she asked, stopping again just a few tables from his parents. Both of his parents were looking at the standing couple now.

He turned, tried to laugh, though it sounded strangled, and said, "Why would I plan this of all things? Eating with my parents? Blasphemy! I know you don't want people to know we're engaged yet, so there would be no reason for you to meet my parents." Lie number three. He wondered how many more lies he would go through tonight. He knew she could see right through the lies. It was going to be hard to be married to a smart, perceptive person. At least it would keep him on his toes.

"You told them, didn't you?" she gasped.

He needed to turn this to his advantage. Perhaps he could play on her sympathies. "Your friend Joe knows we're engaged. Why can you tell people, and I can't?"

"Draco, that is convoluted logic, and you know it. You know he found out accidentally. You were there," she said.

"I don't even know what convoluted means," he lied once more. He lost count how many lies he had told so far. Was it four or five? She believed him the other night in bed when he said he didn't know what salacious meant, even though he did, so perhaps she would believe this as well.

"Don't play the dumb blond with me, Draco Malfoy," she said.

All he could think now was, 'great, she's smart, perceptive, can see through my lies, and my pretend ignorance won't even work on her.'

He turned back around, her hand back in his, and dragged her to the table. He had no other choice and no other excuses up his proverbial sleeve. He practically had to tow her the remaining few steps.

He whispered back to her, "Buck up, Granger. Where's that Gryffindor pride?" He turned right before they reached the table and smiled his sweetest, most heartrending smile at her. Surely, his charm still had an affect on her.

"My Gryffindor pride is about to step on your Slytherin snake's neck and break its head right off its body," she warned.

He didn't know what to make of a woman that wasn't won over by his charm. Yes, Hermione was different. As he once thought many months ago, she was an enigma, not easily understood or explained. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Good thing she was his, and not someone else's. It would be a pity to let her pray on some poor unsuspecting man out there. At least he was aware of her extra special gifts, (or where they curses?) and he could guard against them.

He turned to the table. Lucius stood. He said, "Mother, Father, I would like to reintroduce Hermione Granger to you both. Hermione, you remember my parents, right?"

She squeezed his hand so tight, as a warning he was sure, that she caused actual pain. He removed it from her vise like grip and said, "Damn," under his breath as he shook his hand to relieve the pain.

"You're late Draco. We took the liberty of ordering for you both. Our cocktails should be here shortly," Lucius said, sitting back down in his seat.

Draco held out a chair for Hermione, which she reluctantly accepted, and then he sat down opposite her after he kissed his mother's cheek. She felt he was too far away. He felt he wasn't far enough. He knew she could hurt him even from this far of a distance.

She was staring right at Draco, who was suddenly interested in the scenery, since he was looking at everything BUT her.

She decided to make the best out of the situation. She would deal with Draco and his deceptions later. She said, "Nice to meet you again, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius decided to cut to the chase. He said, "What are your intentions with my son?"

Draco's jaw dropped. Hermione's eyes widened, and even Mrs. Malfoy looked shocked. Hermione almost wanted to laugh. Wasn't that something a woman's father was supposed to say to the man she was dating? She said, "At that moment, my intentions are to beat the living shite out of him as soon as I have him alone. What are your intentions, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco giggled, a nervous, almost effeminate giggle, because he had never seen anyone stand up to his father before. He said, "Father, Hermione, play nice, please."

To himself, but aloud, Lucius Malfoy said, "Play nice, indeed. What do you do for a living now, Miss Granger?"

Before she could answer, Draco said, "Oh, wonderful, our drinks have arrived. Perhaps we could get drunk before the interrogation begins."

Mrs. Malfoy laughed at her son's feeble attempt at humour-slash-stalling. Mr. Malfoy did not. Lucius looked at his son and said, "Fine, I'll ask you a question, since you don't want me to ask Miss Granger anything. Why were you late?"

"It was Hermione's fault," he said, throwing her to the lions.

She gave him a death glare and Mrs. Malfoy said, "Beauty takes time, Lucius, you know that."

Draco finished his firewhiskey in one gulp, leaned back in his chair, held his glass up to a waiter and said, "Waiter, more please."

Lucius looked back at Hermione and said, "Where were we? Oh, yes, your employment. What do you do for a living?"

"Do you want to know if I can support your son in the manner of which he is accustomed? Because, I am sure I cannot," she answered drolly.

He said, "I merely wanted to know what you did for a living."

"I'm the assistant editor of the Daily Prophet," she said unabashed.

"That rag?" Lucius said.

Draco leaned forward and said, "Hermione's worked very hard to bring that paper back up to respectability, Father."

She was glad Draco was finally part of the conversation. However, Lucius didn't even acknowledge that Draco had spoken. He merely looked at Hermione and said, "That paper will never be respectable. It prints only lies and innuendos."

Hermione said, "I'm sure you are an expert on lies and innuendos."

Draco polished off his second drink.

Lucius narrowed his gaze to her and said, "Why aren't you Editor?"

Again, Draco decided to answer. He said, "They already have an Editor, Father."

Lucius huffed and said, "No one really reads that paper any longer, anyway, as there is nothing printed there that is worth reading."

"Your son thinks otherwise, seeing as he writes a weekly article for the paper now," Hermione challenged.

Draco said, "Where's that damn waiter. I need another drink."

Lucius turned to Draco and said, "You write for that paper?"

"Under a pseudonym. No one knows it is I," Draco said, trying to placate his now furious father.

"I should hope not, dear," his mother answered. "We wouldn't want our friends to think that you had to work for a newspaper, of all places, for a living. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?"

That comment from Narcissa offended Hermione more than what Lucius had said.

Hermione said, "I need some fresh air, excuse me." She threw her napkin down, stood up, and went toward the lobby. She heard Draco's chair scoot away from the table. She was going to go out the door and not look back, but she remembered Draco's snide comment about her "Gryffindor Pride" so she decided instead to take a moment to strategize on what to do next. She turned and saw two options. The ladies room, which she remembered Draco was not above entering, and the cloakroom. She headed toward the cloakroom.

She said to the attendant, "May I come in for a moment. I just need a moment alone to think."

As if it were the most common request in the world, the young woman smiled, moved aside, said, "Think away," and let her enter. Hermione walked past a long line of coats, toward the end, found a stool, and sat down. She pulled a long black cloak over her body for good measure. She had to remind herself that she wasn't hiding. She was reflecting. There was a vast difference.

Here were the things in which she had to reflect.

Lucius was a pompous git.

Narcissa was a snob.

Draco was a spoiled brat, who lied to her. She could deal with the spoiled part. She already knew that about him. She also knew he was capable of lying, she just never imagined he would use his powers of evil against her.

She felt like Draco threw her to the wolves and watched them eat her alive. But then again, Lucius really hadn't said much to her yet. Stupid idiot. She never liked Lucius Malfoy, so why did she care what he thought? She was proud of her job and her paper.

As she thought that, another thought enter her head. Had Draco even told his parents about their engagement? If he had, wouldn't the first questions out of Lucius' mouth have been things like, "When did you two start dating?" and "When did you become engaged," and "How can you marry a Mudblood, Draco?" Hermione realized that he must not have told them that much. Was he hoping she would blurt it out? Was he both a liar and a coward? Of course he was, stupid former Slytherin. He was just underhanded enough to let her take their dissension. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. Well, she wouldn't play into his hand. She was resigned to leave when she heard his voice.

"Miss, did a beautiful woman, curling brown hair, black dress, just pass by here?" Draco asked the cloakroom attendant.

"No, perhaps she went to the bathroom, Sir," the girl said. Hermione smiled. The girl lied for her. See, some people lied for good. She would have to leave her a big tip.

"I already checked the bathroom," Draco said. Hermione thought, 'of course you did'.

Draco leaned toward the girl and said, "Is she hiding in the cloakroom as we speak?"

Hermione held her breath. 'Say no, say no, say no,' she chanted in her head.

"No, Sir," the girl said.

Hermione didn't hear anything for a moment, and then Draco said, "Would your answer change if I gave you 100 galleons?"

"No, but for 200 it might," she said.

Hermione's previous admiration for the girl flew out the window. She must have been a former Slytherin, too.

Draco must have thought so as well, because he said, "Here's your money. By the way, were you in Slytherin in school?"

The girl said, "Ravenclaw."

That made even more sense…lying, smart, cloakroom girl!

Draco said, "Enough said." He started in the room and said, "Granger, I know you're in here. The cloakroom girl confirmed it. Come out."

"No."

"Why are you in the cloakroom?" he asked with a laugh. He walked toward where he heard the 'no'.

"Oh, is this the cloakroom? I thought it was the bathroom," Hermione said.

"If that's the case, I hope that's not my coat you are hiding behind," he said with another laugh.

Hermione moved the coat aside.

"Why didn't you tell me we were meeting your parents?" she asked.

"Would you have come?" he asked back.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"I don't know why I didn't tell you, either. It was wrong, and I'm sorry. Will you come out now?" he asked.

"Not yet," she answered. "And I really did think this was the bathroom when I entered." There, she could lie, too. She thought a lie in this case was appropriate. It was better that he believe she had a poor sense of direction, than to believe she was afraid in anyway, or worse, insane or stupid, because none of those adjectives came close to describing Hermione Granger. She really just needed time alone to think.

Draco laughed and said, "Tell me that lie again. Why are you in the cloakroom?" he asked. "Did you really mistake it for the lavatory?"

"Draco, I can't go back out there and face your parents. I faced the Dark Lord and was less scared than I am now," she admitted. Fine! Hermione was afraid. She was big enough to admit it!

He laughed and said, "If I have to go to Muggleville and meet your parents, you have to come out of the cloakroom and meet mine."

"Is she stealing our coats, Draco?" His father asked from the hall.

Hermione sighed. Great, now Lucius was in on the act. She put the cloak back over her head. She would apparate home from there.

As if sensing her plan, Draco moved the cloak aside and took her purse right out of her hands. He leaned toward her and whispered, "I'll take your purse, so you can't get to your wand."

Lucius said, "This is ridiculous. Both of you come back to the table now."

Hermione wasn't about to go back out there, and it really wasn't about fear. She just didn't see a reason to go out there and subject herself to Lucius' interrogation, Narcissa's snobbery, and Draco's avoidance. She looked at Draco and quietly asked, "I have a question. Did you tell them about the engagement?"

"Not yet, but I want to tell them tonight. I just told them I wanted them to meet you," he said softly.

"I thought we agreed not to tell anyone yet," she said.

"I really didn't agree to that," he reminded her.

She suddenly had a terrible thought. "Why didn't you tell them? Let me ask you what you asked me earlier. Are you ashamed of me?" she asked.

He looked at her doe-like eyes, her hurt expression, and his heart melted. His charm and persuasion might not work on her, but hers worked on him. He took her hand, stood her up and turned to his father, who was now also in the cloakroom. How bizarre, one of the Dark Lord's former minions hiding in a cloakroom with one of the Dark Lord's biggest foes. Draco felt slightly out of place.

"Father, Miss Granger is my fiancée. We're engaged to be married. That's why I asked you to come here tonight to meet her."

Lucius had the audacity to laugh. He said, "You aren't engaged to her."

"I am, Sir. I asked her Saturday night and I gave her Grandmother's ring," he said. He took the ring out of his pocket and turned to Hermione. He said, "Here, I had it sized for you today." He placed it on her fourth finger.

"How long have you been dating?" Lucius asked. His anger was apparent.

Hermione wondered what Draco would say, because she didn't even know the appropriate answer to that question, since their whole courtship was odd.

"Since New Year's Eve," Draco said. It was a lie, but of course, but it made sense, since that was when this whole fiasco, for lack of a better word, began. Draco added, "We are living together as well." Hermione looked over at him. She wondered what other little white lies he had hidden up his sleeve.

Lucius turned red in the face. Draco stood toe to toe with his father and Hermione realized something. This was probably the first time Draco had ever stood up to his father. This was probably the first time he was his own man. All of his other sins from the evening were washed away, and she suddenly felt proud of him.

She said, "Let's go back out to the table, Gentlemen."

As they made their way back to the table, Hermione leading the two angry men, she only looked back once. Draco was behind her, his mouth in a hard line. She quickly looked behind him, and saw an even angrier Lucius Malfoy. Her Gryffindor pride, which had temporarily escaped her when she hid in the cloakroom, resurfaced. She could handle whatever situation came up now, because Draco was finally with her, so to speak. A bit of alcohol might help as well.

Their food had already arrived in their absence. Mrs. Malfoy said, "I was beginning to wonder when you would come back."

Draco held out Hermione's chair, and then went over to his. Lucius said, "Guess what fallacy your son wants us to believe? Go on, Draco, tell your mother. Break her heart."

Draco leered at Lucius, but then turned to face his mother, took her hand in his, and said, "Mother, Hermione and I are engaged to be married."

Narcissa laughed. Draco let go of her hand, Lucius smiled and Hermione put her head in her hand, a headache already appearing.

Narcissa said, "I'm sure she's a nice girl, but you can't marry her."

Hermione thought, 'the nice girl is right here, you stupid bint.'

Draco said, "Mother, I invited you and Father here tonight to tell you that we are engaged. I'm happy for once. I love her and I AM going to marry her."

Hermione wanted to say, 'so there,' but realized that would sound immature, so instead she picked up her fork and started to eat.

Narcissa hissed low toward Draco, "No, I won't allow it."

Hermione dropped her fork mid bite.

Lucius said, "Don't worry dear; he won't go through with it. He didn't go through with his last engagement."

Narcissa turned to Hermione and said, "You see, Miss Granger, we only ever had the one child, and being an only child of privilege, we spoiled him rotten. Nevertheless, the truth remains that a lot sits on his shoulders, the continuation of our family name and bloodline, are just a few. We didn't arrange a marriage for him because we always hoped he would marry for love. As I said, we spoiled him and usually gave into his whims and wishes."

"But that doesn't mitigate the fact that he must marry a pureblood. No one else will do. Anyway, you are a professional, are you not? You surely don't want to be married."

She turned to her son and said, "You're a good son, and we love you, and we know you'll do what's right in the end."

Hermione said, "Maybe doing the right thing is marrying someone he loves."

All eyes at the table turned to Hermione. Two people were frowning and one was beaming brightly. Draco said, "I agree. I'm doing the right thing. I know it. I didn't know it at first, but I do now. I want to get married, and I want to marry Hermione Granger." He stood up, walked over to her chair, and said, "Let's just go home, Granger. I'll fix us something to eat."

He leaned toward his mother and said, "That's right mother, I do my own cooking now. Isn't that scandalous?" Then he leaned toward his father and said, "After we eat, perhaps we will have sex without protection and get started on your little halfblood grandchild. Oh, that's right, we never use protection. I bet a little half-blood bun is cooking in the oven right as we speak."

He laughed, took her hand, and walked back toward the cloakroom. Hermione stopped him, just as she did when they entered the restaurant, and said, "What's gotten into you?"

He smiled, leaned toward her, kissed her lips and said, "You've gotten into me, Granger. I love you and I suddenly don't care who knows it. I want to marry you, whether anyone else wants me to or not." He continued to pull her out of the restaurant, smiling brightly.

He turned to look at her once, and Hermione thought he looked either slightly deranged, partially constipated, or suddenly free. Whichever was the case, one thing was certain. She would never doubt his feelings again. He really wanted to marry her.

Hermione followed, but instead of smiling, she wondered if his sudden epiphany had more to do with defiance of his parents than actual desire to marry, but she wouldn't think about that right now. Frankly, she was too hungry.

Before they could disapparate away, Lucius Malfoy walked out of the restaurant and placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. He said, "Come back inside, both of you, and let's finish our meal."

Hermione figured it was as close to an acceptance that they were going to receive from the man. Draco looked to Hermione to decide. She was very hungry, so in her famished state, she agreed to go back inside and eat dinner with her future in-laws, heaven help them all.

* * *

_Coming up:_

_She felt there wasn't enough air to breath. Suddenly, everything seemed to blur, as if she was in a tunnel. All their faces came back into view, and she was aware of only one thing…why was Draco in a dress?_


	28. 28 To Err is Human, to Forgive, Rewind

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 28: To Err is Human, to Forgive, Rewind:**

Alexander Pope was an English poet and essayist who lived in the 18th century, and was considered the father of Enlightenment. People often quote him right and left, and often they don't even know from whom the quotes originated. Most people don't even know who he was. He was way ahead of his time in his way of thinking. He frequently wrote about God's love for man and about forgiveness. He knew one thing, and that was that forgiveness was a truth universal.

He was famous for several quotes, among them, 'fools rush in where angels fear to tread,' and 'hope springs eternal in the human breast.' His most famous quote was, 'To err is human. To forgive, divine.'

Hermione often found it hard to forgive people. It was her only shortcoming, she was sure. However, taking a page from Pope, Hermione decided she would forgive Draco for everything.

Whether a person proclaimed to be a Christian, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Hindu, a Pagan, an Atheist, an Agnostic, a Jew, or something else, they usually believed in forgiveness and loving their fellow man. Hermione Granger pondered these things during her short stay in the cloakroom that night, things like forgiveness, like human nature and lies, and things like her future. Alexander Pope said it best: To err is human. To forgive, divine.

When you love somebody, forgiveness is understood, and doesn't need expressed. In Draco's case, a lot of forgiveness was needed, since he did so many things that needed to be forgiven, so she would need to do it often.

To err is human; to forgive, divine. She knew it would become her new mantra. Everyone made mistakes. Everyone's done things for which they need to seek forgiveness. Those without fault throw the first stone, and so forth, and so on. Some people speak ill of a friend. Some people lie. Some people cheat and steal. Some people (like Draco), do all of the above. Draco often did the wrong thing, even though he knew that he shouldn't. At least, she hoped he knew the difference between right and wrong. Growing up with those two people as his parents, she wasn't so sure.

No one Hermione knew was perfect. When she finally acknowledged that fact, when she finally identified it, she felt she could finally start to forgive Draco, because she couldn't expect him to be better than she was, could she?

Though no lie was little (a lie was a lie, right?), a lie that hurt others was still wrong, even if the person lied for the right reason. Therefore, the person who lied should say, "I'm sorry," and the person wronged should say, "Apology accepted," and both should be on their merry way.

How could she expect Draco to forgive her when she did bad things, if she wouldn't forgive him? In her mind, she had yet to do anything that needed redemption or forgiveness but she figured that everything came back to people tenfold. That was the way things should be. To seek forgiveness, a person had to offer it first.

However, things were rarely the way they should be. Blessed was he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed. If that was not one of the quotes from the Sermon on the Mount, it should be.

The rest of the dinner went pretty much like the start of the dinner. His parents asked Hermione derogatory questions, not really expecting answers. They continued to tell Draco how disappointed they were with him, not really expecting him to respond. By the end of the evening, Hermione felt numb. She also had a nice little buzz due to the five drinks she had during dinner.

Draco decided to take her home as soon as they left the restaurant. Before they left, he kissed his mother's cheek and said quickly in her ear, "I love her, Mum." He pulled away and thought he saw understanding in her eyes. He kept his arm around Hermione as he leaned forward and shook his father's hand. He said in hushed tones, "Think about things father. Wouldn't you have been happier in life if you could have married for love?"

He had no idea if his words had any effect, and at this point, he no longer cared. He said goodbye to his parents by the doors outside, turned with his fiancée in his arms, and disapparated. He had only had the two drinks at the beginning of the meal. He wanted to keep his head clear during the meal because he saw how much she was drinking, and he knew one of them should have a clear head to deal with the Malfoys, and in this case, it had to be him.

He entered the foyer of his townhouse, Hermione in one arm, her purse in the other, and as soon as he was in the house with her, she collapsed against one wall. He squatted down beside her, brushed her hair out of her face, and though her eyes were shut, he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione." He didn't know if she heard him or not, but he was. He was sorry. He was sorry for so many things.

She heard him. She wasn't so far gone that she hadn't heard. She sat there against the wall in the entryway of Draco's house, and thought about the words of Alexander Pope. Frankly, she was proud that she could remember the man's name since she was so drunk that she couldn't even remember what colour knickers she had on, but she remembered his words, and decided one thing. She would forgive Draco.

Draco opened the door to his flat and went inside. Hermione wondered if he meant to leave her in the hall. Maybe she wouldn't forgive him after all. She crawled over to the stairs, and started climbing, on her hands and knees, up the stairs. She felt like a fool, but she was sure she wouldn't be able to stand if she tried.

Draco came back out to the hall, having changed clothes to jeans and t-shirt and said, "Wait for me, Hermione." He picked her coat and abandoned purse back up and with his wand, he levitated them to her floor. He climbed the stairs until he was on the same step as her, and he sat beside her and pulled her over to him. She was forced to sit beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Interesting dinner, huh?" he asked.

She couldn't answer if she tried. All she could think was that he was so pretty and perfect. She placed her hand on his chest and felt for his heartbeat. She wondered, for the briefest moments, if he was human. She then laughed aloud, because only an inebriated Hermione would have had such a silly thought. He smiled when she started laughing at her silent 'inside' joke.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked.

"Are you real?" she asked back.

He laughed again and said, "The jury's still out. Let's get you upstairs."

"Wait," she said as he started to stand. He sat back down and placed his arm back around her.

"What?" he asked.

"I love you," she said. She frowned slightly, because that wasn't what she was going to say.

He frowned when he saw her frown. He said, "That's nice, because I love you, too."

"No, that's not what I was going to say, however, that doesn't mean it's not true." She took a big breath because suddenly she felt slightly sick. She looked into his eyes and said, "I forgive you."

"You do?" he asked, his amusement apparent once more on his face.

"Yes, for to err is human, to forgive, rewind," she said.

"Rewind?" he asked.

"Oh, I mean, divine," she said. She started to giggle. "I was thinking about the phrase, 'please be kind, rewind'."

He didn't know to what she was referring, but he thought she was charming, all the same. "Are you drunk, Hermione Granger? I'm ashamed of you," he said. "No, actually, I'm slightly excited, because I usually get lucky when I get my dates drunk."

"You would get lucky with me, anyway," she said. "Take me home, Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. What a silly name."

"Coming from a woman named Hermione. There's not even a decent way to come up with a nickname for you," he said. "Hermie? Mione? Herm? HG?" he asked.

"I can't think of a derivative of Draco Malfoy, either," she said. "Drake? O?" she asked.

"O?" he said. "You are pissed, aren't you?"

He helped her up the stairs and once outside her door, he propped her up against his side, with one arm around her waist, and he opened her door, just a fraction, and then he said, "I forgive you, too."

"What did I do?" she asked sincerely.

"Perhaps nothing yet, but I forgive you anyway. You have one blanket forgiveness from me, good for one use and one use only, to be used at anytime that you see fit. Okay?" he stated, still slightly amused by her.

"You're hoping I won't remember this, aren't you, Draco Malfoy? Well, I have a mind like a steel strap," she said.

"Steel trap," he corrected.

"That, too," she said. "I'll remember this."

"Good, I want you to remember," he said. "The offer is a preemptive offer; good up to one year after it's issued. Now, let's get you inside." He kicked open her door and was greeted by five frowning faces. Good thing they had already forgiven each other, because by the looks on her friends' faces, he was probably going to do some things tonight that would need forgiving and she probably would, too. If nothing else, he would have to forgive her for her poor choice of friends, and their meddling ways.

Draco deposited Hermione on the couch and turned to the crowd, which included Harry, Joe, Lavender and Mike, and as fate would have it, Michael 'the arsehole' Corner. "What in the world are all of you doing here?" he asked, as he went over and slammed her door shut.

"What's wrong with her?" Joe asked, as he pointed to the woman on the sofa that resembled Hermione Granger.

Draco looked over at the almost comatose form of his fiancée on the couch and with feigned ignorance said, "Whatever do you mean, Nancy? Hermione seems fine to me."

"Just answer the question!" Joe said.

"You answer mine first, powder puff. What are you all doing here?"

Lavender stepped between the two men; fairly certain neither would hex the other while a pregnant woman stood between them. Her husband was less convinced, so he grabbed her hand and replaced her body with his. Harry sat on the couch and patted Hermione's cheek, and Michael went to get some coffee and a cold compress.

Mike asked Draco, "What's wrong with Hermione?"

"He's got her under a spell! I told you so!" Joe yelled.

Draco stepped around Mike, who grabbed his arm, and yelled, "No one's got anyone under a spell, Nancy!"

"Stop calling me that!" Joe yelled back.

"What should I call you, you overgrown, meddling piece of shite?" Draco asked.

Harry actually laughed from the couch and said, "From the smell of things, she's just drunk, Joe." He looked at Draco and said, "Joe made a formal complaint to the Auror's office this evening that you had Hermione under the Imperius Curse, because she claimed to be engaged to you."

"I didn't make the complaint because she's drunk," Joe said. "I have other evidence."

Draco sat on Hermione's other side, ignoring Joe, and said to Harry, "She only had five drinks and she's two sheets to the wind."

"Yeah, she always was a lightweight," Harry responded.

Draco added, "I would be slightly ashamed of her, but I have bigger problems, like how did all of you get past my wards to get in here?"

Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttail. "Hermione gave me a key to the patio door a long time ago. I used a broom to fly up to the patio, and then I let the rest of them in the house."

Draco winced inwardly. Stupid Scarhead and his stupid use of Muggle keys. Draco never used keys. He didn't even know the patio door had a key. Draco said, "As an Auror, I demand you arrest yourself for unlawful entering."

"It wasn't unlawful. I told you, I used a key," Harry said. Hermione opened her eyes.

"Hi, Harry," she said, just noticing he was there.

"Hi, Hermione," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I had dinner with the Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy," she answered, making a face.

"Enough said," Harry told her, patting her hand. Michael walked back in the room and placed a cup of coffee in her hands, and wiped at her forehead with a cold cloth. Draco stood up and Michael took his abandoned seat next to Hermione.

"Dammit, Potter!" Joe screamed. "Arrest Malfoy!"

"Dammit, Potter!" Draco mocked, "Arrest Nancy!"

"Who's Nancy?" Hermione asked Michael. He smiled and shrugged.

"I have proof she's under the Imperius!" Joe said.

"What proof?" Draco asked, walking around the man.

"Look how she's dressed!" Joe said, pointing to her. "That dress is impeccable! It's worth a fortune! It's a designer dress and her shoes are, too! Everything matches! I bet even her knickers match! Hermione Granger would never dress that well by herself! It looks like she has even waxed! She's under the Imperius, I tell you."

Hermione looked down at her outfit and turned to Michael and said, "I wondered what colour my knickers were. I forgot."

"Well, now you know," Michael answered with a laugh.

"I thought I looked nice tonight," she said with a slight frown.

"You do," he said still smiling.

Joe huffed and said, "You do look nice, Hermione, but the point is that you could never dress yourself that well! You have terrible taste!"

"He has a point," Lavender whispered to Mike.

Hermione took off one of her shoes and threw it at Joe. "I have good taste!" She took off the other one and threw it over her shoulder.

Joe caught the shoe thrown at him and said, "And look, she's showing signs of aggression. She's throwing things! That's unlike her!"

Lavender and Harry both snickered at the same time. Lavender said, "You don't know her that well, Joey."

She leaned over, placing her head on Harry's lap and her legs across Michael's lap. She said, "Stop the spinning, Harry." He took the cup of coffee from her and placed it on the floor.

"Joe, she's fine," Harry said while stroking her hair. He looked down at Hermione and asked, "Are you engaged to Malfoy now?"

"Yes, Harry, I am," she answered. Draco looked over at Joe with a 'so there' grin across his face.

"Did you become engaged to him under your own free will?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"I believe so," she said, "Now may I ask you a question, Harry?"

She sat up.

"What is it, sweetie?" he asked.

"Did you know Dumbledore was gay?" she asked.

Harry laughed and said, "What?"

"Draco said Dumbledore was gay, and well, I just can't believe that," she said. She tried to sit back up, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

He said, "Um, well, yes, I knew."

"See," Draco shouted. "I knew there was something fishy about their relationship."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry spat, no longer smiling.

Joe huffed from the chair in the corner and said, "I still say he's forcing this on her!"

"You don't make any sense," Michael finally spoke. "She's the one that wanted to marry him in the first place, so wouldn't he be the one under the Imperius, not her?"

Draco was starting to like Michael again. He said, "Yeah, explain that!"

"I still think something's wrong. Give her an order, Malfoy, and see if she follows it!" Joe said.

Draco pulled Hermione up by her hands from her place on the couch. She swayed slightly and said, "I feel sick."

He said, "Hermione, I command you to hit Nancy in the nose."

"Who's Nancy?" she asked again.

Joe walked over to the pair. He grabbed Hermione's face between his hands and said, "Look me in the eye, and tell me truly, are you engaged to Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," she said, still swaying.

"And you are of relatively sound mind?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"FINE!" he shouted. He let go of her face. He said, "I wish I had her under the Imperius right now! I would have her kick the living daylights out of Malfoy!"

"I feel sick," Hermione said for the second time.

Joe said, "I wish she were under the Imperius curse, and then I would have her throw up on you! In fact, I wish to Merlin that she would! It's what you deserve, Malfoy." He turned to Draco.

Draco took Hermione's arm, and she continued to sway. He said, "I wish she was under the Imperius, too, because I would have her throw up all over you, Mullins! In fact," he turned back to Hermione and said, "I command you to throw up all over Joe Mullins!"

Then, the worst thing in the world happened. It was bad, and perhaps the worst thing that could ever happen. In fact, it probably had never happened before, ever, except maybe in another story somewhere, but Hermione Granger threw up all over Draco Malfoy!

Harry and Mike laughed. Michael and Lavender grinned. Finally, Joe had to concede that he was wrong and he said, "Fine, she's not under the Imperius."

Hermione woke up on her bed. She was in only her black bra and knickers. She had a bedspread over her. She turned to her side, still feeling nauseated. She felt there wasn't enough air to breath. Suddenly, everything seemed to blur, as if she was in a tunnel. All their faces came back into view, and she was aware of only one thing…why was Draco in a dress?

"Draco?" she asked.

"I'm here, Hermione," he said.

"Why are you in a dress?" she asked.

He looked down. He had placed her pink robe over his bare torso. "I had to take my clothes off because you threw up on me," he answered.

It all came back to her, rushing in like a tide - the fight with Joe at her office, the Malfoys and their stuck up noses, the cloakroom, the five rum and cokes she had, and oh no…throwing up on Draco.

"I threw up on you?" She felt horrified. She closed her eyes.

"It wasn't your fault. It's the fairy princess's fault. He commanded you to do it," Draco said, crawling up on the bed beside her and rubbing her arm.

"Who?" she asked.

"Princess Nancy, at your service," Joe said, walking closer to the bed.

"Oh," she said softly. "I remember. I'm embarrassed, I have a headache, and I'm tired and still slightly sick feeling, so everyone, leave, okay? Everyone but Draco."

Draco looked over at her friends, triumphant, and said, "You heard her. And she said it of her own freewill."

Lavender leaned down and said, "We're having lunch tomorrow, and we'll discuss this, okay?" She kissed Hermione's cheek. She took Michael's hand in one of hers, and Mike's hand in the other, and walked out of the room.

Joe said, "I'll leave, too. I'm sorry, Hermione. I really thought there was something funny going on, but I was wrong. I won't try to talk some sense into you here, because Malfoy might hurt me, but we'll talk privately at a later date, okay?" He squeezed her hand, started out, and said, "Hey Malfoy!" Draco looked over to Joe. "If you dare to ever make fun of my sexual persuasion again, I'll prove to you how much of a ponce I am." He walked out.

Draco leaned toward Hermione and whispered in her ear, "I bet he knew Dumbledore was gay." Hermione hit his arm. He said, "Hey, I really thought his name was Nancy. I forgot it was Joe."

Harry was the last to leave. He stood by her bedroom door and said, "I hope you two are sure about this."

"I am, Harry," she said.

Harry looked at Draco.

"Oh, shove off, Pothead. I asked her and gave her a ring and everything. I even took her to meet my parents. I think I'm relatively sure I want to marry her," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Fine," Harry said. He had a thin smile grace his mouth and he said, "Have you two told her parents yet?"

"No," Draco answered for them, since Hermione appeared asleep.

Harry laughed and said, "I'll arrange something for this weekend, a get together. A meet the prospective in-laws, if you will. Yes, that would be my honour." He started to laugh and walked down the hallway, still laughing.

Draco looked confused, leaned down to Hermione's face, and said, "Hermione, what did Potter mean by that evil maniacal laugh? I usually can decipher those types of evil laughs plainly, having had Lucius as a father, but his has me confused."

She opened her eyes and said, "Oh, it's nothing, except that my father already hates you because of what you did to us in school. Harry must be laughing about that." She shut her eyes again.

Draco leaned up on one arm. Well, hell, if her father already hated him, he would have to do something to remedy that before he met the man. He jumped off the bed, ran toward the living room, and grabbed Harry's arm as he was leaving the flat.

"Potter, you have to help me! I can't meet the Grangers having one of them already hating me! What can I do?"

Now, Harry had two choices. He could help Draco, and give him some sound advice, or he could have fun. Harry kept his grin at bay and said, "Start with sending them candy. Lots of candy. The type that just rots your teeth. That'll send them a message."

"Sweets? They like sweets?" Draco asked, confused. He had no idea the Grangers were dentists, or that they had never allowed Hermione to eat sweets growing up.

Harry shook his head, but he couldn't go through with it. So, for Hermione's sake, he said, "Forget it, I was joking. Don't do a thing. I'll call you when I have the dinner arranged." He walked out the flat.

Draco shut the door and looked down at Iggy. He said, "I know a liar when I see one, cat, and Potter is lying. He doesn't want them to like me. I WILL send them a bunch of sweets, as much sugary candy as I can, and I'll arrange my own dinner with them. I don't need him. Stupid Potter." He bent down, stroked Iggy's ears, and went to Hermione's bedroom to be with her in case she needed him. He took off her robe and crawled under the covers.

He said, "Do you still forgive me, Hermione?"

"Sure," she said, half asleep.

"Do you want to ask me to forgive you for throwing up on me?" he asked.

"No, I'm not wasting my once in a lifetime blanket forgiveness for a little vomit," she revealed.

He smiled and said, "Fine, but someday, when you ask me to, I'll forgive you, or throw up on you, one or the other."

"Fine," she said. He kissed the top of her head, and soon they were both asleep, with Hermione dreaming about shoes and cloakrooms, and Draco dreaming about sweets and vomit.

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_What makes you think you're good enough for my daughter?" Dr. Granger asked._

"_What makes you think I'm not?" Draco challenged._

"_You have caused her too much pain and suffering as children, and I have no reason to believe that you have changed one iota," her father shouted._

_Hermione walked up to her dad, placed her hand on his arm, and said, "You have one reason, because I say so." _


	29. 29 A Daughter's a Daughter all her Life

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 29 - A Daughter's a Daughter for the Rest of her Life:**

Lying in bed the next morning, with the sun shining a bit too bright in the window, and feeling the effects of a slight hangover, Hermione Granger pondered something Draco said to her as he was leaving for work. He woke her up, told her he notified the paper that she would be late, placed a glass of 'pepper up' potion by the bed, and then he kissed her forehead and said, "By the way, I contacted your parents, told them that we have news for them, and we are all having dinner together here at the flat tonight. See you later."

She closed her eyes again, and then she remembered something her dad told her when she was young. They had just attended a wedding of her cousin, and her uncle became teary-eyed. Hermione asked her father what was wrong with his brother, and her father said, "Hermione, a son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life."

Even at eight years old, Hermione knew what that meant.

Now that she was an adult, she understood it even better. She opened her eyes and realized that her dad was going to eviscerate Draco Malfoy at dinner tonight. He would chew him up and spit him out. The truth was that Stephen Granger could give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money.

She shut her eyes again; certain that if she opened them slower this time, she would have realized that she must have imagined the whole ordeal. However, she opened her eyes again, and sure enough, she was still hung over, the sun was still too bright, and she was still sure he really said they were having dinner tonight with her parents. She reached for the pepper up potion and downed it in one swallow.

She stood in the shower for ten minutes before she appreciated the implication of his words. She would have liked to be the one to tell her parents about her engagement herself. She remembered telling Draco that her father already hated him last night, unless she dreamed that part. However, if she did tell him that, why would he want to arrange this meeting? She was sure it came as a shock to her mum and dad. She was sure the biggest shock was the fact that she was engaged to Draco Malfoy. Of course, he didn't really say that he told them they were engaged. He just said that they had 'news' for them. Maybe her parents would think that news was something very different.

On the other hand, maybe they would figure it all out and would kill them both.

She had mentioned Draco plenty of times to them in the past. They knew about the first time he called her Mudblood. They knew about the time he hexed her and her teeth grew. They knew about every cruel word and deed he had ever done to her. They knew that his parents were Death Eaters. They knew his complete sordid past, and her part in it.

They were aware that they were friends now, and that she was renting a flat from him, and that he brought her to the hospital when she had appendicitis, but that was it. They weren't happy about any of those things, but she was an adult, and they didn't pursue it. Even so, they knew nothing else. They certainly didn't know she was engaged, and to him for that matter.

None of this was going as she had planned. She wanted to be engaged, but then after it finally happened, she felt apprehensive and guarded. She wasn't sure where those feelings came from. Was it due to insecurity that he would change his mind? Was it due to the ever-slight chance that she might change hers?

She knew she had told Draco that it would be better if they took things slow, dated a while, and not tell people their 'joyous' news right away. She thought Draco had agreed to these terms, but apparently, she was wrong. First his parents, now hers. What was next? A full-page ad in the Prophet? A billboard? An engagement soiree with a hundred people attending? Would he even invite her? When had things gotten so out of hand?

She toweled herself dry and then sat on the side of her tub. Oh no…her parents knew about what happened to her at Malfoy Manor during the year they were in Australia. Draco was a dead man. She was even mildly afraid for her own health and well-being. She stood up and quickly dressed.

She was distracted all morning long. Her 'relationship' article was due, and the only thing she could think to write about was what was happening right now in her own life. She titled the article: "It's Best Not to Meet Your Future in-laws Until After the Wedding." The short article was one rambling thought about how perhaps in-laws should be _against_ the law. She surmised that most marriages would do better if the parties in question kept their families separated, and never gave into the fallacy of 'one big happy family'. She couldn't ever imagine her parents and his parents sitting down together over a Christmas goose and singing "Deck the Halls." Hermione was screwed.

She placed the article in her outbox, placed her head on her desk, and decided to hold her breath and see if she could commit suicide that way. If she didn't die, then at least she might have the luck and fortitude of passing out and banging her head on her desk, and then perhaps going to hospital, and then tonight would never have to take place.

She could wish, couldn't she?

She heard footsteps. She assumed it was her assistant. She said, "Take the things in the outbox to the copy room, won't you?" She heard the person pick up the contents of the outbox, but then she didn't hear retreating footsteps. She knew right away, who it was.

She heard a chuckle and then Draco said, "Nice article. Are you feeling a bit apprehensive about tonight, Hermione?"

She didn't answer. Her 'real' assistant came in, Draco handed her the article and other papers, told her to take them to the copy room, and then he shut her door.

He walked up behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hermione?" He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Do you think a person could hold their breath long enough to kill themselves?" she asked.

"Plotting suicide or homicide?" he asked.

She sat up suddenly and turned to look at him. "My gosh, I didn't even think of that! I wouldn't have to kill myself so we don't have to have dinner tonight. I could just kill you!" She smiled to show that she was joking; at least she thought she was.

He smiled and lifted her by the shoulders. He embraced her, his hands roaming up and down her back and he said, "Seriously, you don't have to worry about tonight. Nothing's going to happen. Also, please tell me how would you kill me. I want to be prepared."

"I do have to worry about tonight, and I was going to kill myself by holding my breath. I haven't given your death much thought yet," she said.

He said, "Let's see how long you can hold your breath."

She glared at him and said, "Let's not." She removed herself from his clutches and went to sit on the sofa. She placed her head in her hands.

"Still hung over?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She wasn't hung over. She was overwhelmed. He sat beside her and tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. She looked over at him, and suddenly, he seemed angry.

She said, "You have no right to look angry, Draco Malfoy! It's entirely your fault that I'm feeling this way. You're manipulating everything!"

"Manipulating things? ME?" he asked with a raised voice.

"Yes! You arranged that catastrophe with your parents, without telling me, and now the dinner with mine, without telling me! Next you will say that you picked out my wedding dress!"

He expelled a small laugh, stood up and said, "Well, I've never, I mean, I wouldn't, I mean, well."

She stood up quickly and pointed at him. "You picked out my wedding gown?"

"It's just when I went to the designer to pick up your dress for last night, I saw one there, and it looked so pretty, so I went ahead and purchased it. If you don't like it, you won't have to wear it," he said.

She threw her hands up in the air, said something unintelligible, then pointed at him again and said, "Manipulator!"

"Oh, please," he said. "You've orchestrated our entire engagement since day one! You decided we would marry someday before I even knew your middle name!" he shouted back. "You decided we would marry before you even told me about it!"

She had no counterargument for that claim, so she couldn't refute it. However, she could do one thing: she could cry.

"Oh, geesh, Hermione! Don't cry for crying out loud!" Draco said. She sat back on the couch. He sat beside her and pulled her to his chest, his arms around her.

"It won't be that bad. This time, all the attention will be on me. I'm the one that will be interrogated and picked apart. Your parents will be nice to you. Why are you worried?" he asked.

"You've never met my parents. They might not be that nice to either of us. Oh, let's not talk about it," Hermione said, drying her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to take you to lunch," he said.

"Lavender is coming over for lunch," she said.

"Well, cancel those plans, because it's a pretty day, and you and I are going for a walk," he said.

"You don't have something underhanded planned, do you?" she asked.

"ME? Underhanded?" he asked.

She glared at him and said, "Are you taking me to a surprise engagement party or something?"

"That's tomorrow night," he joked. She looked shocked and he said, "Oh, lighten up, Granger." He stood up, took her hand, and led her to the front doors of the paper.

They walked out toward Diagon Alley and she said, "Are we really walking somewhere? I am sort of hungry and wouldn't mind lunch."

"We are having lunch," he stated cryptically.

She stopped. "I can't take any more surprises from you. Tell me where we are going this instant! You aren't secretly taking me to a new house you bought for us or something, are you?"

He smiled and laughed. He said, "No, we're going to lunch. Some trust would be nice, Granger." He took her hand again and started walking. His smiled slipped from his face as they walked along. He could feel the tension in her hand. He glanced down at her once and he knew he would have to start to tread a bit lighter with her. He must remember not to steamroll over her, the way he did most people.

A house. She was funny. Although, that would make a nice wedding present. Perhaps he _would_ buy her a house. She could hardly refuse if they were already married and it was a present. She could hardly change her mind about marrying him either, if they were already married. Yes, he would buy her a house, but wait until after they were married to give it to her.

They arrived at a park, across the street from the paper. They walked up to a tablecloth that was lying on the ground, with a picnic basket, some candles, and what looked like wine. She smiled and looked up at him, and he was pleased that she was pleased.

"This is nice," she said, "Although I must say no to the wine."

"It's sparkling cider," he said. "I don't want you to turn into a lush."

She laughed.

They sat down and he opened the basket, pulling out all of the food. They started eating, and an easy silence overtook them. She finally said, "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"

"Is this a game?" he asked.

"No, we aren't ten years old, this isn't a game, it's a conversation," she said. "Now, answer the question." She threw a piece of cheese at him.

"If we aren't ten years old, you shouldn't throw things." He picked up the piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth. "I love everything about myself. I'm perfect in every way," he said.

She stopped chewing her food to smirk at him. "Nice smirk," he said. "Not quite as good as mine, but passable."

"You wouldn't change anything?" she asked.

"Well," he thought, "no, I really don't think so. I'm already tall, I'm fit, I'm intelligent, I'm rich, I love my job, and I love my fiancée, so life is pretty good."

"Still, nothing?" she prodded.

"Apparently you want me to say something, so why don't you tell me what would you change about me," he asked. He moved closer and brushed his hand down her cheek. He smiled sweetly at her, and then brushed her hair behind her ear. He leaned even closer and his lips hovered near hers. "Well?"

Hermione brought her hand to his hair, leaned closer, and kissed his mouth in a lingering, sweet, meaningful kiss. She pressed her lips hard on his, pushing him over to his back, and resting on top of him. She didn't care if she was in public. Apparently, he didn't either. He brushed his hand down her hair to her back. He moved his head slightly to the side, as her tongue grazed his bottom lip and entered his mouth.

She tasted so sweet. He loved the feel of her mouth on his. He rolled over so he was on top, and he deepened the kiss even more. Finally, a shadow fell over their bodies. Hermione pushed Draco off her slightly, by pressing on his chest. He turned his head, and she looked around his shoulder, to see who was intruding on their kiss.

"Mum? Dad?" she said, frantically. Draco moved off her, slowly, almost lazily. She hurried to sit up, straightening her blouse and hair.

Draco said, "Slight change of plans. We're meeting your parents for lunch instead of dinner. See, I told you that you didn't have to worry about tonight."

Hermione actually pushed Draco, but he didn't fall over and hit his head on the picnic basket, the way she wanted him to. He barely moved. She scrambled to stand up.

Her father was glaring at Draco, a frown on his face. Her mother's eyebrows were knitted together, and her mouth was in a thin line. Draco stood up and said, "I hope you both got the sweets I sent over."

Hermione gasped and looked over at Draco. "You sent them sweets?"

"Potter told me they loved sweets," he said.

Draco leaned forward and said, "Hello, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger. I'm Draco."

"We know who you are," Dr. Granger said, "And it's Dr. and Dr. Granger, thank you very much."

Her mother sighed and said, "You may call us Stephen and Kate, Draco." Her mother reached for Draco's extended hand, still suspended in the air, since her father did not intend to shake it. She then turned to Hermione and said, "Why were you kissing in public?"

Hermione's parents were extremely private people. She said, "I, well, we, um…Draco?" She turned to Draco.

Instead of answering, Draco said, "Would you both like to have a seat?"

"On the ground?" Stephen Granger asked.

"Yes," Draco said, as if it were a common thing.

Hermione's father said, "I see, we are lowly Muggles, parents of a Mudblood, so we deserve to eat on the ground."

"Dad!" Hermione said harshly.

Draco was a bit shocked. "No, I thought it would be quaint." He did think that being Muggles they would like the homey, ambiance of an afternoon picnic, but he wasn't about to tell them that now. In addition, he looked at the way they were dressed. They were apparently people of means. He thought they would be poor and would be impressed. He was apparently wrong on both accounts.

He decided he needed to salvage the afternoon, so he said, "I'm joking. I made us reservations at a restaurant across the street. Have you been to Diagon Alley before?" Hermione used her wand to pick up their food, placing it all in the basket, as Draco held out his hand to usher them across the street.

"Of course we've been here. We brought Hermione here to get her school supplies, you know," her mother answered.

"Right," Draco said. He gave Hermione a backwards glance as they crossed the street. He opened the door to a very posh restaurant, holding it open for them to enter. He said, "Let me see if our table is ready."

Hermione doubted that they had reservations, but she saw Draco head up to the podium, offer the man behind it several hundred galleons, and then several hundred more, before he finally came back and said, "Its ready."

Hermione followed the maître d' toward their table. Hermione's mother followed her and then her father, with Draco bringing up the rear. They all sat down and was handed their menus. Suddenly, Draco felt unsure of himself. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. He looked at her mother, who had her arms folded in front of her, and her father, who was staring at Hermione, and then at Hermione, who was staring at the table. This was more awkward than he thought it would be. He thought his wealth, good looks, and charm would win them over. Now he didn't know how to proceed.

"So, you are probably wondering why we invited you here," Draco finally said.

"Yes we are," Stephen said.

Hermione had hoped Draco had already told them they were engaged, but seeing as he didn't even tell his own parents until they were together, it was too much to hope for that he would tell hers.

Draco looked at Hermione, who was incredibly quiet, and who wasn't inclined to talk, so he mustered some courage, where he found it, he would never know, and he said, "Hermione and I wanted to invited you out to lunch to announce to you that we are formally engaged."

"Engaged?" her mother gasped.

"Engaged to do what?" her father asked sternly.

Hermione looked up and said, "Engaged, Daddy, to be married."

"NO!" he said, throwing down his napkin. The waiter, who had just arrived to take their drink order, turned around and walked away.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Kate Granger asked.

She looked at Draco for support, although she never imagined he would give it to her, but to her pleasant surprise, he stepped up to the plate. He said, "I asked Hermione to marry me, and she said yes. We've been dating since New Year's," he had to perpetuate the lie he told his parents, and it was easier to stick with the same lie, "and we love each other and we are going to get married."

Hermione's mother placed her head in her hand. Her father rubbed his eyes with his palms and then asked, "Is this a joke, Hermione? Because it's not funny if it is. If it isn't, than it's sad and preposterous!"

Hermione swallowed hard. The waiter returned, looked at the faces of everyone at the table, and said, "I'll give you another minute."

Her father leaned over and said, "This is the same Draco Malfoy whom you grew up with, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione said. She was suddenly sitting up straighter. She squared her shoulders, obviously intent to withstand an onslaught of some kind. Draco squared his, prepared to join the fight.

"The same Draco Malfoy who called you names, and made your life miserable?" he asked.

"I wouldn't say my school years were miserable, Daddy," Hermione said, suddenly on the defensive.

"Is this the same man who tried to kill your Headmaster?" he asked.

Draco leaned back in his seat, his courage waning, and shook his head. This man was well informed, wasn't he?

"Dad, I told you the story of that a long time ago. There were extenuating circumstances," Hermione stated.

"Sir, if I may," Draco tried to interrupt.

"NO! You may not," Stephen said. He kept his stare at Draco and said, "Are you or are you not the son of a former Death Eater?"

Draco took a drink of water, and said softly, "You know about Death Eaters, do you?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," her mother finally answered. Then she looked at Hermione and said, "Wasn't his aunt the one that tortured you that time? Hermione, it took you years to get over that. You used to have nightmares, and you would cry about it for years afterwards."

"You did?" Draco asked. He suddenly felt very sad and small. He didn't know that about her. He realized that he didn't know much about her, or her family, and that also made him sad.

Hermione felt like crying, but out of anger, not sadness. She said, "He's not his father, he's not his aunt. He was forced to try to kill our Headmaster by Voldemort. He was only 16 years old at the time, and it was under the threat that Voldemort would kill his whole family! The fact remains that he didn't kill anyone! When he was young he was a bully and a bigot and a snobbish brat."

Draco said under his breath, "Way to defend me, Granger."

She ignored him and said, "But he's not any of those things any longer. He has changed. He's become an honourable, endearing, loving man, and I love him and he loves me."

Draco wouldn't go so far as to say he wasn't still some of those things, but it was nice to hear her defend him, all the same. He silently thought, 'Bravo, Hermione.' He decided that since he stood up to his own father, he could stand up to hers. After all, his own father had a wand and could hex him. What could this man do to him, besides glare at him?

Thus, Draco said, "Sir, I understand your reticence. We've had our own share of doubts. We are both taking risks here, and my parents aren't any happier than you are, but we know we can make this work, if given a chance. I will be good to her. I will take care of her, as much as she needs me to, and she in turn will take care of me. I'll love her as long as I live. I was a man who never wanted to marry, but she changed my mind. I want to marry her, and I hope in time you will find me worthy of her." Hermione stood up and walked behind Draco's chair, placing her hand on his shoulder, to show a united front.

"What makes you think you are good enough for my daughter?" Dr. Granger asked.

"What makes you think I'm not?" Draco challenged.

"You have caused her too much pain and suffering when you were children, and I have no reason to believe you've changed one iota," her father shouted.

Hermione walked up to her dad, placed her hand on his arm, and said, "You have one reason. Because I say so."

Her father was quiet for a very long time. The waiter stood by, waiting to see what he was going to say also, so he could finally take their order. Finally, her father said, "I agree to have lunch, but that's as much as I can handle at the moment. I won't give my blessing, not yet, and maybe not ever."

"That's more than my father granted us, so that's fine," Draco said, actually smiling. He motioned that the waiter should come over.

Lunch was a quiet affair. No one spoke much accept for the occasional questions and answers, which went something like this:

"What do you do, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Call me Draco."

"What do you do, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I have my own business."

"Did you go to University?"

"Yes."

"Have you been married before?"

"No."

"Do you have children?"

"No."

"Did you know we are dentists?"

No, he didn't know that. He said, "No."

"Why did you send us all of those sweets?"

"Harry Potter told me you would like it." Draco made a mental note to himself to kill Harry Potter, but then he remembered that he had made that same mental note over a dozen times in his life, and he had yet to carry it out, so he gave it up.

"Are you friends with Harry Potter?" (Her parents loved Harry.)

"NO! Certainly not."

Two steps forward, one-step back.

"Where do you live?"

"With Hermione."

Suddenly, her mother and father both stopped eating. Hermione shook her head at Draco. He said, "I meant that she lives with me."

Hermione shook her head again. That meant the same thing!

"What?" her mother said. "Hermione, we don't believe in living together before marriage."

Draco laughed and said, "It's not like we're living in sin, she lives in a flat in my townhouse, remember?"

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," her mother said with a pleased look on her face.

"Yes, don't worry, there's no living in sin going on," Draco said jokingly. Hermione kicked him under the table. He said, "What, Hermione? We aren't living in sin, so let us set your mum and dad's minds at ease. Of course, we are having premarital sex." Then, Draco laughed, thinking he made a joke.

Hermione banged her head on the table. Stephen Granger stood up and walked out. Hermione's mother stood up and said, "Hermione!" Then she also left.

Draco frowned and said, "What century are they from?"

"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione said, throwing a fork at him. He dodged it before it hit him. "Just because you had to mention to your parents that we're having sex, there was no reason to mention it to my parents!"

"Do they seriously think we're getting married and not having sex?" Draco said.

"I am sure they're aware we're having sex," she hissed, "however, my parents are not the type to talk about such things at lunch!" She threw her napkin down and said, "Why are you ruining everything?"

Draco frowned and said, "Does that mean you're leaving before pudding?"

She sighed and walked out of the restaurant. Draco threw the rest of the contents of his wallet on the table and ran after her.

However, by the time he ran outside, she was long gone.

He waited until evening to head up to her flat. He didn't know how to proceed. He knocked on her door. She answered immediately and she threw herself in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He stroked her hair and said, "It's my fault, once again. I thought I was doing a good thing. I didn't tell you, because I didn't want you to worry. I wanted to take the stress and worry away from you. I knew you were nervous when you met my parents again, but I had no idea you would be nervous for me to meet yours. I sincerely thought they would adore me. I had no idea there would be so well informed of my biography, either."

"They're my parents and I've told them many things about my life. I'm an only child, and we're close, and I share a lot of things with them," she explained, her face still pressed in his chest. She moved her face slightly, wiped her nose on his sleeve, and then looked up at him.

He looked at the snot on his sleeve, grimaced slightly, and she laughed. He placed her face in his hands and said, "First, don't use me as a snot-rag. Second, you state you share a lot with them, but would you have ever shared the news that we were engaged?"

"Eventually," she said.

"How long do you want to be engaged?" he asked.

"I haven't given it much thought, yet," she answered.

He wouldn't pursue that subject now. Instead, he let go of her face, and said, "Do you really think I'm ruining everything?"

"You're just being very forward and forceful. I want us to do all of this together. I don't want to be out of the loop," she said.

"I'm not sure what that phrase means, but I do know that I won't do another thing without telling you. I promise." She smiled at him and then he said, "I'll call and cancel our honeymoon reservations."

"Where were we going?" she asked, smiling up at him. It just occurred to her that they were still tight in each other's embrace, and she liked it.

"Rome and then Venice," he said.

She said, "That sounds nice. However, how could you plan our honeymoon when we haven't even decided when we are getting married yet?"

His smile vanished. So did hers. He said, "Well…"

* * *

_Coming up:_

_Their heads touched at they lay on the floor in opposite directions, staring up at the ceiling. She said, "Your turn. You tell me about your perfect wedding, now."_

_He smiled and said, "It's never been something I've imagined before I asked you to marry. Now, I have it pictured perfectly in my mind."_

_She smiled and turned her head to look at him. He turned his head to look at her. She said, "Tell me all about it."_

_A/N I hope this chapter isn't too strange. It hops back and forth, to the present, to things that happened weeks before, to the present, to earlier that day, to the present. I was trying something, and I hope it still makes sense!_


	30. 30 To Love at All is to be Vulnerable

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 30: To love at all is to be vulnerable:**

C.S. Lewis was one of Hermione's favourite authors growing up. She had read every volume of "The Chronicles of Narnia" when she was young. Those books planted an indelible memory in her mind: that the world existed of good and bad, right and wrong, and most importantly, that magic existed, and could be used for good or for evil. That was something she learned was true later on in her life, too.

When she had first read the books when she was ten, she thought they were fairytales. When she turned eleven and she received her Hogwarts letter, she knew that there was more to the work of C.S. Lewis than just symbolism, and that they were more than just moral stories about right and wrong, good and evil.

She wasn't sure when she first became aware of her favourite C.S. Lewis quote, but something Draco had just said as they laid on the floor of her flat, their heads touching, lying in opposite directions, staring at the ceiling, made her think of this quote.

She asked him when he realized he really wanted to marry her. He said, "It was simple really. It was when I finally decided that my heart was more than a mere organ for pumping blood and keeping me alive. It was when I realized that it was also a symbol. It was a real thing, but also, symbolic. It was when I finally realized my heart was not just a literal thing, but also a figurative thing, which I finally decided to open so you could come inside and share it with me. I decided my heart wasn't fragile, and that it could beat to keep me alive, and also hold your love."

She turned her head, smiled at him and quoted, "Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But, in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken. It will become unbreakable, impenetrable, and irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

He looked confused, but suddenly, as if a light came on, he smiled and said, "Who said that, besides you?"

"A Muggle writer, named C.S. Lewis," she said. She reached over and touched his forehead, then placed her hand back by her side. She said, "See, Draco, you almost said the same thing he said. You decided to open up your heart and use it for more than just a vessel for pumping blood, and therefore, you learned its multiple uses. If you had kept it locked up tightly in your chest, in only the figurative sense, it would never break or know pain, but it wouldn't be much of a heart."

"I like you, Hermione," he said.

She grinned and said, "That might be the nicest thing you've said to me."

Two weeks had passed since their disastrous 'meet the parents' episodes. The luncheon with her parents went perhaps a bit worse than dinner with his parents, but she might just have thought that because she was sober at the lunch, and drunk at the dinner.

After their disastrous lunch with her parents, Hermione had to have a follow up lunch, alone, with them. She convinced them that Draco loved her and that she wanted to marry him. While they still were not happy, they agreed to support her.

Draco spent several evenings alone with his parents. They said they would disinherit him (he didn't care, he had plenty of money of his own), they wouldn't attend the wedding (fine, two less guests saved him money which meant he had even more money of his own), and that they would never have anything to do with their grandchildren.

He didn't doubt their words, but he did doubt their true intent. He would give them time to come around, and if they never came around, then so be it. He had made his choice. He opened his heart and found that it was useful for many things. Loving Hermione Granger was just one of them, and he wouldn't close it again, especially not for two people who apparently still had locks on their own hearts.

When they came home from the lunch with the Grangers, he confessed that he had not only picked out her wedding dress, but he had planned their honeymoon, and picked out their wedding date: June 9th. She was shocked beyond words. She asked him if he was ever planning to tell her. He said, "Eventually."

They yelled and screamed and then they finally came to a consensus. She agreed to let him plan whatever he wanted, as long as he told her about his plans ahead of time. She also told him that June 9th, while a nice date (after all, Captain Wentworth married Anne Elliott on June 9th, for all the Austen fans out there), it was not what she wanted. She told him that she always wanted an autumn wedding. She always _dreamt_ of an autumn wedding. Of course, Lavender and Mike's baby was due in September, so they would be cutting it close if they married in October, but that was what she wanted.

He agreed.

That led them to this point, with them lying on her floor, looking up at her ceiling, one pillow under both their heads, two pillows under her knees, Iggy by her feet, their bodies in different directions, and their head all but touching. They were also finally talking about their hopes and dreams, their wishes and prayers, and everything in between. They were staying up all night to talk. It was high time they got to know each other better if they were going to get married in October.

Hermione got home earlier from work than usual, for a change, though she was so tired that she felt dead on her feet. She couldn't find Draco, but she wasn't too concerned. She took a hot shower, dressed in pajamas, ate a bowl of cereal, fed Iggy, and then she cleaned up her dish and spoon.

She picked up a book from her shelf in the hall, walked toward the living room couch, and before she reached the couch, she sneezed.

Everyone sneezes occasionally. However, this was no ordinary sneeze. Hermione sneezed, and then so help her, she actually felt a pop in her back, pain in her hip, and a sharper pain travel from her hip down her leg. She winced, tried to take a step, and yelled out in agony.

She slid down the side of the chair to the floor, looked up at the ceiling, and whispered, "Help me."

Iggy walked up to the supine Hermione, placed his nose on her nose, and then climbed over her and laid by her side. He wasn't very helpful, was he?

If she had her wand, she would send for help.

If she had her phone, she would call for help.

If she had her fiancé, she would ask for help.

Nonetheless, she was alone, so all she could do was stay on the floor, on her back, in pain.

Hours passed. She cried a bit, more out of frustration than anything else. It was her sciatic nerve, of that she was sure. She hurt herself in a similar fashion one time before, only that time she actually was lifting a heavy box, not performing an ordinary bodily function, such as sneezing.

She tried several times to roll over and stand, but she couldn't do it. Soon, her flat was dark inside, as there was little to no daylight left outside. She knew it was probably after eight pm. Where was Draco?

She shut her eyes, and willed for death, sleep, or a miracle, whichever one was the least painful. Her wish was granted (the sleep one), and she soon fell asleep.

Draco came downstairs, from his office, in a very bad mood. He was trying to sell off all of the assets of his business, and even after contacting every former associate, and every business contact, he was running into a brick wall. He decided he was no longer interested in the import/export business. He had grander plans and designs. He wasn't sure what they were yet, but he wouldn't give up the thought of writing for a living. He mentioned that to Hermione the other day while watching Muggle cricket on the telly, a game he would never understand, and she said he should follow his dream. She placed his face between her hands and said, "You should be happy, Draco. As long as what you want doesn't hurt anyone else, and it makes you happy, you should do it."

No one had every encouraged him before.

No one had ever told him to follow his dreams.

Who was this little Muggle-born, soon to be Mrs. Malfoy? He smiled, knowing that she probably wouldn't take his name. He wondered if she was home yet. She had been working so hard, putting in so many hours at the paper. He didn't see any light from under her door, so he passed by and went downstairs to grab a bite of food.

Around nine o'clock, after he ate and showered, he tried to floo the paper. There was a copy editor and the pressroom manager there, and they both said that she left early because she was tired.

He called Lavender and Mike and asked them if they had seen her. They told him no.

He apparated into her flat, directly to her dining room. The living room was dark. He walked down the hall, didn't see her, and then he went to her bedroom, picked up her mobile phone, which was on the bedside table, and called Potter.

After another negative response of, "She's not here, Malfoy," he called her parents. They hadn't seen her, either. He knew she wouldn't be at HIS parents. Lying back on the bed, trying to think about things clearly, he was a bit shocked when Iggy jumped up on the bed.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked the cat.

"Prwrp," Iggy trilled back.

Draco walked toward the kitchen, saw nothing amiss, then he had a terrible thought. What if she left him? What if she changed her mind about marriage and she ran away? Then he frowned, because he knew his first worry should be about her health and welfare, and besides, if she left, wouldn't she have taken a few things, her cat not withstanding? Why, he remembered seeing her purse on the dining room table. Why was her purse on the dining room table, and yet she was nowhere to be found?

He walked back into the dark living room, turned on a light, and then gasped. She was lying flat on her back, her knees bent, but her eyes closed. She was asleep.

He smiled at first, thinking that she was in a funny position to have fallen asleep. He took his wand, hid behind the chair, and he zapped her lightly with a small stinging hex.

That woke her right up.

"OUCH!"

He smiled and then sent another one her way.

"What the hell?" she asked toward the ceiling. He wondered why she didn't pop right up and investigate.

He went to the other side of the chair, pointed his wand at her again, and sent another stinging hex, one that was sharper than the first two. 'This one will get her off her arse,' he thought.

After he pointed his wand and sent the hex, and all she did was cry out and say, "What in the blazes! Isn't it bad enough that I hurt my back? Now something keeps shocking me!" She didn't know Draco was in the room with her, and she didn't even think about the fact that she was no longer lying in the dark.

Draco winced silently, and carefully, quietly, put his wand away. He knew he couldn't disapparate without making a noise, so he crawled into the other room, looking over his shoulder twice to see if she saw him. He stood up in the dining room, and said, "Hey, Hermione, are you home?"

"Oh, Draco, I'm so glad you're here! I'm in the living room. I can't move! I hurt my back."

He stood over her, looked down, and said, "How did you do that?"

"That doesn't matter, does it?" she asked.

He stood over her, cocked his head to one side and said, "It might."

"I sneezed," she said.

"And?" he asked.

"I sneezed," she said. "And something popped in my back and now this."

"I've never heard of a sneezing accident before," he said, now slightly concerned, yet slightly amused. Only she could cause such a plethora of emotions. He knelt beside her and asked, "What may I do?"

"I'm not sure, but I do have to go to the bathroom," she said. "I can't stand."

He was perplexed. He gave it some thought and then leaned down, placed his right arm under her raised knees, his left arm under her neck, and he started to lift. She said, "NO!"

He placed her back down.

"Does it really hurt that bad?" he asked.

"Yes, Draco. I can't move. I'm not on the floor for my health, well, scratch that phrase, because I guess I am," she said.

"Shall I take you to St. Mungo's? I know your middle name now and all. I'll have no problems filling out the paperwork," he said with a sly smile.

"I don't think this a St. Mungo's situation," she harped. "I'll be fine."

"I could try to do something." He stood up and looked around. He walked to her dining room, came back and said, "May I levitate you to the dining room table?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Do you have dinner planned on top of the table again?" she asked sarcastically.

"I'm not paying attention to your rude comments," he said, "although my idea does have to do with a movie. I saw a movie once, a Muggle movie, where this bloke hurt his back and this fellow called a Chiropractor manipulated his back, and he was right as rain,"

"Do you ever use more than two brain cells ar once?" she asked. "Chiropractors go to school to learn how to do that! I know I said you were a manipulator, but that's not what I meant. You can't watch one movie and then know how to do something like that. You might permanently damage me," she said. "However, I do need the loo."

"It's in the other room," he said, standing up straight and pointing toward the door. "Walk there yourself, you ungrateful thing."

She looked sad, and hurt, and everything in between, even a bit pitiful, supine on the floor such as she was. His face softened and he said, "I'm joking, however, I'll call my own personal Healer." He left and just a few minutes later, and he really did come back with his Healer.

Therefore, that was what led them to this point in time. The Healer said a healing spell, and then after Draco helped her to the bathroom, the man told her to stay on her back for a few more hours, and then she should be fine. Draco got the bed ready, but she said the floor was better. Draco placed two blankets and her bedspread on the floor, he put pillows all around, and after she was on the floor, head on a bed pillow, her knees raised under two couch throw pillows, he laid down beside her, heads sharing a pillow, in the opposite direction, and they started to talk.

"Tell me your dream wedding, Hermione." Draco turned his head to look at her, as she stared up at the ceiling.

She smiled and said, "Well, as I told you the other night, I always wanted to get married in October. I think autumn is the best season of the whole year. I like the weather, the clothes, Halloween, the nip of cold in the air, everything. I love everything about autumn, and October is the optimal autumn month, in my opinion."

She closed her eyes a moment, and then continued. "I want to wear an ivory gown. I want orange and gold flowers in my hair. I want to get married outside, in a small wooded area, with autumn foliage as my flowers and the low lying branches of tall trees, with their vibrant colours, as my canopy."

She turned to him. He was still staring at her, except he was smiling. She said, "I want a short ceremony. I want a violinist or cellist to play Jocelyn's Berceuse by Benjamin Godard. That's my favourite classical piece, and I rather think Canon in D Major is overdone, don't you?"

He smiled. He had no clue to what she was referring, but he nodded in agreement. At that moment, if she asked him if he loved Harry Potter, he might agree.

She said, "I don't want the tradition ceremony either. I want the Officiate to say a few words, and then for my intended…"

"Me?" he questioned.

"Could be," she said, "Anyway, I want my intended and me to say our own vows, and then I want us to light a single unity candle, and then go inside and have a big party for all our families and friends. That's my dream wedding, Draco."

"It sounds wonderful," he said, and he meant it. Women were funny things. He would write about this soon. They planned their weddings long before they even had a groom in mind. Men didn't do those sorts of things. He had never even given it a thought, but as she spoke, so eloquently, of her 'dream wedding', he started to envision his own 'dream wedding'. It was something Draco Malfoy would have sworn he would never do in a million years. He wouldn't have to tell anyone. It would be his own little secret. He wouldn't even tell her, unless she asked, that is.

Their heads touched at they lay on the floor in opposite directions, staring up at the ceiling. She said, "Your turn. You tell me about your perfect wedding, now."

He smiled and said, "It's never been something I've imagined before I asked you to marry. Now, I have it pictured perfectly in my mind."

She smiled and turned her head to look at him. He turned his head to look at her. She said, "Tell me all about it."

"Not to outshine your fall wedding, because it sounds perfect in every way," he stated, "but I would like to get married by a lake. I have a lake in mind." He suddenly turned so he was on his side, his head resting in his hand, his arm bent at the elbow. He reached over with his free hand and stroked the top of her head. "When I was young, I used to love fishing. I know that sounds rather mundane, and not very 'Malfoy' like, but I did. There is this little lake on the Manor's estate, there are all kinds of trees nearby, and there are two hills flanking the right side of the water, and a small wooden dock. I want to get married, in the autumn, like you, standing on that little dock, but I don't want anyone there but my intended, which I suppose can be you, and myself."

"Who's marrying us, then?" she asked.

"Oh, well, an Officiate can be there," he added.

"Who are our witnesses?" she asked.

He leaned over, kissed her lips, tasting her sweetly, and then whispered in her ear, "I wouldn't think you would want any witnesses, since we will be nude and all."

She pushed him away and then laughed. She said, "No nude weddings, Malfoy."

"Fine, you may have your ivory gown, I'll wear black, but of course, and our friends and family may watch us, since we will be in our best finery," he concluded.

And so the night went. She asked silly questions, such as, "what's your favourite colour, day of the week, flower, and food."

He answered, "Black, Saturday, white roses, and don't tell a soul, but I love Muggle Pizza."

He asked the same silly questions of her, and she stated, "Blue, Tuesday, yellow roses, and lamb stew."

She asked serious questions. "How many kids do you want, what do you want to do with the rest of your life, where do you see yourself in five years?"

He thought about the answers for those questions, and said, "I don't know how many kids I want, because I never wanted any until perhaps this minute. I want to write someday, and in five years, I see myself as a successful writer, with kids, and married to my second wife."

She grinned at him and called him a bastard. He grinned back and said, "Fine, in five years I might still be on my first marriage."

They talked, and touched, and kissed, and she even sang a little song that her 'Grammy' taught her when she was five. He told her his favourite memory of school, and she told him hers.

"My favourite memory of school was seeing you at the Yule ball," he said.

"Oh, everyone says that," she answered with a laugh.

"True, and I'm lying. However, I would have to say my real favourite moment was when it was over. I didn't like school that much," he said.

"I loved school. I always wanted to be a teacher. I often thought I would like to be a private tutor, you know, get kids ready for their NEWTS and OWLS. Open a school just for that."

"Why don't you do that? Why are you working at the Prophet if that's what you want?" he asked. He had her hand in his, his head now on her stomach, and he laced his fingers through hers.

"I don't know. I started working at the paper, and I loved it at first, and I was good at everything about it, and when the promotion to Assistant Editor came about, I took it, and here I am," she answered. "I'm not unhappy, but it is what it is."

"You told me I should follow my dream and become a writer," he began, "Why should I follow my dream, if you won't follow yours? Set a good example for me, Hermione. Follow your dream." He sat up and placed his body so it was in the same direction as hers.

He leaned over, kissed her cheek and repeated, "Follow your dream." He leaned toward the other cheek, kissed it and said, "Be happy." He propped his body over hers, his weight on his arms, leaned over her and kissed her mouth, and then as his lips still touched hers he said, "Don't ever do anything you don't want to do. You only have one life, so live it the way you want." He looked at her seriously and added, "I want you to always do what you want, and never do what you don't want. Okay?"

She placed her arms tight around his neck. He smiled and placed his body back beside hers. He placed his hand on her stomach. "How's the back?" he asked, yawning as he spoke.

"Much better," she said. She rolled over to her side, as if to demonstrate, and as her face turned toward his, he leaned forward, and his mouth descended to kiss her again. She turned back to her back, and he raised his head, his grey eyes beguiling.

Hermione dragged his face down again and kissed him hard. He kissed her back, intensely, demanding her interest, as if she wouldn't give it otherwise.

He rolled to his back, and she rolled on top of him, the pain in her back and leg long gone. Her long curly hair grazed his face, her soft breasts against his chest. She felt so good against him. Her legs slid between his. He rolled them over again and pinned her to the floor. He kissed a trail of kissed around her face, chin, and neck, down to her collarbone. His hand cupped her breast. He said, "I do believe you have entirely too many clothes on, and I do as well."

"Do something about it then. Stop talking." She said the words almost harshly, but without hesitation. Draco got to his knees, placed his hands in the same position as he did earlier, and lifted her up, standing slowly, so to gauge her pain.

She seemed to be pain free.

He walked with her to the bedroom, placed her on the bed, and he undressed. She turned her head slightly to the side, to watch as he slowly peeled off his shirt and undershirt. He took off his belt, then his shoes and socks. He leaned back over to kiss her again before he removed his slacks. He then removed his underwear. He stood in the moonlight, his pale skin almost silver looking, with the play of shadow and light casting over his body. When he said he wouldn't change anything about himself, well, he was right, because she wouldn't change anything about him either.

He was lean, his chest and arms well defined, his legs long and muscular. He was amused that she was staring at him so intently. Hermione examined every inch. When her eyes finally traveled back up to his face, he had a stupid grin gracing his lips. She said, "So? We're going to get married. I can look."

He laughed and leaned over the bed. He said, "You can do more than look. Do I get the same pleasure?"

She nodded.

He hooked his thumbs in her pajama bottoms and pulled them slowly over her hips, down her knees, and to the floor. He took the tips of his fingers and grazed first one leg, from her pelvis, to her thigh, to her knee, calf and then bare foot. He took the same hand, and went in the opposite direction with the other leg. He started at her foot, to her calf, to her knee, thigh and hip. He placed his hand flat on her stomach. He said, "Beautiful" and then he kissed her hip.

He removed her underwear in the same slow fashion, and he let his fingertips take the exact same path. Her head was still tilted slightly, and she watched the expression on his face, which if she was forced at wand point to describe it, she would describe it as 'awestruck'.

He took a deep, ragged, breath in and then let it out slowly. He placed both hand around her waist. He drew her shirt over her breasts, which were bare, and then slipped it over her head. He threw it on the floor as well.

He straddled her body, his erection not yet touching her. His hands went slowly up her sides, to the underside of her breasts. He placed his hands on both breasts, and rubbed his thumbs on her peaks. She had to close her eyes for a minute, as a sigh escaped her lips.

He continued his slow, arduous, journey with his hands, touching every bit of her body, her neck, her shoulders, her arms and hands. He thought she had beautiful hands. She kept her nails short, but she hand graceful fingers. She once told him that she like men's hands, but his hands couldn't hold a candle to hers.

He finally started to kiss each breast. His mouth set her skin on fire. "I love you so much," he said. "You're more than I deserve, and I really mean that. I am so lucky to have you. Thank you, Hermione."

She could tell he was sincere. She placed her hand on his face and said, "Why are you thanking me?"

"Thank you for wanting to marry me, before I even had the good sense to want to be your friend. I would have been so unhappy, and lost, if you hadn't wanted to marry me, so thank you," he said, grinning.

"You're funny," she said. "Thank you for wanting to marry me, back."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling.

She smiled and cupped his cheek again. "You're welcome, too."

He grinned and kissed her mouth again. She held him close as her back arched toward him. His mouth moved down to her stomach, and lower still. As his mouth kissed across her hip, his left hand began to investigate the delicate area between her legs. She responded, as he knew she would, with diminutive whimpers, in which he loved, and almost delicate, choreographed movements of her hips, for which he yearned.

He couldn't wait until the second his body penetrated hers. He loved the expectation of his reward. He couldn't believe he could ever love someone the way he loved her. This was beyond bizarre, and all he could think was why had he waited for her when she was always there. He could have had her years and years earlier. Well, he had her now, and he would never let her go.

She was what he wanted and exactly what he needed. He wanted to appreciate every minute of each time they made love, to value and enjoy it. He never wanted it to end.

She thought the same thing, and without words, he knew it to be true. He spread her legs, putting one over his shoulder, as his tongue set to work and brought her to a fevered pitch. It was more than his expert tongue that brought her close to climax. It was the fact that he set her heart and soul on fire every time he touched her, and expressed his love to her in the physical sense.

He was a gentle, giving lover, which sometimes surprised her, seeing that he was often quite selfish and vain in his everyday life. It occurred to her that he might just be this way with her, at least she liked to think so. She liked to think that he appreciated what he had.

When they both seemed to be on the edge, he slid back up her body and drove himself deeply inside her, stroking her hard and long, the whole time his hands were on both sides of her face, and his eyes closed in concentration. Though his eyes were closed, he saw her face plainly. Gee, he really did love her, didn't he?

She kept her eyes closed as well, and let the ecstasy begin to take over her body. They climbed to the threshold of final gratification; he placed his cheek next to hers and said, "I love you, Hermione. I want to marry you, I do. I really do."

He drove himself into her deeper than he ever had, she lifted her hips to meet each stroke, and soon they were lost in the other's release.

When they were replete, he fell off her, pulled her to his side, and held her tighter than he had ever held her. When they were both poised, he said, "Why do I feel sometimes like I'm the one who wants to get married more than you do, now?"

She felt frightened by that statement. They had just had the best sex they had ever had, and he said something like that. What had she done to make him say something like that?

She frowned, leaned over him, cupped his cheek, and propped her head on his chest and said, "Draco, I don't know how to reassure you. I tell you I love you, and I do. I tell you I want to marry you, and I do. Why does it have to be a constant will they or won't they with us? We just made love, so just be happy in the moment. I want to marry you!"

She was becoming upset. Why would he say something like that? She sat up, her back to him, the pain from her injury all but gone, but a new pain replacing the old pain, with this new pain in her heart, not her back.

She said, "What else can I say to you?" She spoke so softly, but with ardor, and for some reason it made him want to scream.

He knew she had never said anything about being apprehensive about marrying him, but he still felt that way. He knew it was his problem, not hers, but why was she allowed to tell everyone her insecurities and fears, yet he couldn't voice his own?

She started to cry, and he placed his fingers on her back, stroking the skin over her spine lightly. Her pain tore at his heart, shredding it with a figurative a knife. Her head dropped and she said, "Say something."

He put his hands in her hair and said, "Marry me tomorrow." He climbed up behind her, and sat with his legs to the sides of her legs. She leaned her back against his chest. He combed his hands through her hair, fanning it across her shoulder. He felt a tear from her eyes land on his arm as it circled around her.

He said, "Don't cry, Hermione. You don't have to prove anything to me. We'll wait until autumn, and you will have your perfect wedding, I promise. Don't cry anymore. I love you."

She wanted to stop crying, but she couldn't, because damn him, he was right. She was having doubts and damn him to hell for knowing that!

* * *

_Coming up:_

_He paced outside on the sidewalk, the rain coming down in sheets. He placed his hand through his hair and stared down first one side of the street, and then the other. Where was she?_

_Harry Potter came out and said, "Where is she?"_

"_I don't know." Draco was worried. He shouldn't have pressured her. He shouldn't have forced her. He told her last week she could have her dream autumn wedding, and now he was pressuring her to get married in a week. He was a cad and a coward. He just couldn't lose her, not now._

_He turned to Harry, to ask him to help find her, when he saw Harry point over Draco's shoulder. Harry said, "Here she comes now."_


	31. 31 The Times Are AChanging

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 31: The Times they are A-Changing:**

* * *

**_*"Come gather round people wherever you roam, and admit that the waters around you have grown. Accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone, if your time to you is worth saving. You better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone, for the times they are a-changing." (*__The Times they are A-Changing_**

_ – by Bob Dylan)_

* * *

In 1964, American folk singer, songwriter, and poet, Bob Dylan, wrote a song, which became a protest song/anthem for a generation. In his lyrics, he told of the great divide between parents and children, the haves and the have-nots, the dreams of the future and the nightmares of the past. It was more than just a political song, though the song reflected the general political dishevel which marked the 1960's, it also earmarked the feelings of that times.

It was a time to express feelings at a time when people didn't know how to express what they felt. The central theme was that change was coming, whether people wanted it to or not, and whether or not they were prepared. There was no way to stop time.

So it was for Hermione Granger. She had feelings swirling around her, bubbling up, and she didn't know how to express them. She just knew she couldn't stop them if she tried.

Hermione knew that the times were changing, and she needed to change with the times. To put it a bit less eloquently than Mr. Dylan, Hermione need to 'shite or get off the pot.' To put it slightly more eloquently, Hermione needed to get off her arse and become a participant in her life, or her life would pass her by in the blink of an eye.

Weeks passed. Time passed by quickly, and she felt as if she was in a never-ending daydream. Everything was blurring and going by too fast. She was in love, but she felt insecurity. Her friends no longer questioned her engagement, but seemed to accept it for what it was, and that made her question it more than ever. The thing that worried her more than anything was the fact that she knew Draco, for all his bravado, was just as insecure as she was. She even heard him tell Mike that very thing.

Hermione and Draco had gone to Lavender and Mike's for dinner. Mike took Draco out to the shed to see his new racing broom. Hermione laughed when she thought about men and their brooms. Hermione walked outside to tell Draco that Lavender had fallen asleep on the couch, so perhaps they should leave.

Before she could see the men, she heard them. She walked out the back door, through the garden, to the outside of the shed. The door was open and she heard Mike say, "But, Draco, you worry about the wrong things. Everyone has doubts in the months before their weddings. It's natural, and it doesn't mean a thing."

"I just think it's all too good to last. I know its going to end, and it would kill me inside to cause her pain."

Hermione didn't want to hear anymore. She turned around and walked back into the house. If she had stayed a bit longer, she would have heard Draco say, "I know she's having second thoughts. She seems so distant. She isn't helping with any of the plans, and when I try to get her involved, she just tells me to do what I want. You know that's un-Hermione like behavior."

"I agree with that, but I know she wants to marry. It's not you having second thoughts, is it?" Mike asked.

"Goodness, no!" Draco said. "I have never been surer of anything in my life. I've never felt like this before, and you know I've dated a lot of women."

"Yes, we all know that," Mike laughed.

While the men where discussing Hermione's insecurities, she was sitting on Lavender's couch, watching the pregnant woman sleep, and for the first time in her life, she felt utterly and completely out of control, far from her comfort zone, and unsure of her future.

Her parents had invited Draco over for the weekend during the first part of June. For the most part, the weekend was uneventful. Draco taught her father 'Wizard's chess'. Draco bought her mother a nice Muggle painting. Although his parents were still incognito, her parents were coming around fabulously, and in a small way, it worried her to death.

She had no one in which to confide her insecurities. Her parents would tell her to end the engagement. Her friends would tell her that they told her so. Draco, who was already mildly aware that Hermione was hanging on the fringe of their perfect, new, little, engagement world, would never understand. He would take it badly, and she wouldn't blame him. The thing that worried her the most was simple. If she told Draco that she was unconfident, he would reveal that he was too, and that would be the beginning of the end.

So she kept it bottled up inside. Soon, she would either implode, or spontaneous combust. Either way, it was just a matter of time.

Time was a funny thing. There was a time in her life when she manipulated time, with a time turner, during most of third year. There was a time when 'time' was her friend, and now it seemed to be her enemy. She wished she could manipulate time now. If she could, she would fast-forward five years, and everything would be perfect.

Time was in a hurry to come and go, and Hermione wanted to tell time just to STOP!

Draco continued with all his plans, but true to his word, he consulted her at every turn. Therefore, on a Tuesday afternoon, when she came home early from work to find Draco making grand plans to her flat, time finally stood still, because just as the song stated, the times was changing and she couldn't stop it, and Hermione Granger had a full meltdown. To be honest, there was no longer her flat and his flat. Somehow, the lines were blurred and it was one big house. Hermione didn't like that anymore than she liked time, but again, she suffered in silence.

She missed her privacy. She missed her solitude. Even though Draco was never one to smother her, sometimes she wanted to be alone, but he was just always _there_.

She came home that Tuesday afternoon, petted Iggy's ears as he trotted down the stairs, happy to have full range of the entire house now. Perhaps he would lose a bit of weight with this large house as his playground. Hermione called out to Draco, and he called back to her from outside. "I'm in the back garden!"

She walked outside and the first thing she did was look up and ask, "Where the hell is my balcony?"

"I had it removed today."

"Why?" she asked. She stepped further into the garden, and continued to look up to where her lovely third floor patio used to be.

"I didn't see the need for it any longer. I thought we would do some work out here, since this will be our central outdoor space. How do you feel about a pond?" he asked.

She pointed up and said, "My balcony!"

"Yes, yes, it's gone. Get over it," he said, mildly annoyed. He walked toward the back stone wall and said, "I thought the pond would do nice over here."

She joined him and said, "Why do we need a pond? And where is my balcony?"

"Damn, Hermione, are you daft? Forget the balcony," he said.

"I thought you were going to notify me when you decided to make grand plans? Wasn't that agreed upon?" she asked. She sat down on a wooden bench and continued to stare up at the third floor, to the space that used to be her balcony.

Draco sat next to her and said, "I asked you last night if you wanted to continue to live here after we married. You said, and I quote, 'Sure, whatever.' I took that to mean, sure, whatever."

"Oh," she said. She recalled that short conversation. They were lounging in his tub, which was much larger than hers was, and he asked her if she wanted to move to a bigger house when they got married, or if she wanted to stay at the townhouse for a while. She thought she might have said the aforementioned, 'sure, whatever,' but frankly, she was slightly dazed from the hot water and the fact that he was kissing her neck and massaging her breasts, so she could have agreed to anything at the time.

She looked at him and said, "I might have been under the influence when I agreed to that." She smiled.

He chuckled and said, "Under the influence of what?"

"I was under the influence of Draco Malfoy, you twat," she said. She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, "But still, why did you have to tear down the balcony?"

"We hardly want a balcony off a nursery, do we?" he asked.

Without a word to him, she looked up at the third floor again, back to him, and then she stormed into the house.

He said to himself, "What did I say?"

Hermione wasn't sure where to go. Did she even still have a bed to throw herself across? She ran upstairs, too angry to apparate, and sure enough, her bedroom furniture was all gone.

He stood behind her and said, "It's in storage," before she could ask where her furniture was.

She stomped her foot, in what could only be described as a slight temper tantrum, and turned to him and asked, "Why is it in storage?"

"Because this won't be your bedroom any longer," he said. He walked toward her, his hands out in front of him, as if she were a rabid dog.

She imagined him saying, 'it will be okay, calm down, and no one will get hurt.' Was she wrong to be angry that she no longer had a balcony or a bedroom?

If there had been a piece of furniture to kick, she would have. She trotted to the French doors, which were still there, opened them and before she could throw herself out, (which she wouldn't have really done) he was behind her in a flash, grabbing her around the waist, and swinging her back into the room.

She turned in his arms and said, "Just tell me what's going on here!" She looked up at him and bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"We are going to make your living room and dining room one large master suite. We will enlarge your bath, make your kitchen into a dressing area, and this room will really be your office, not a nursery." He smiled at her and continued, "I was just joking before. I didn't know I couldn't joke with you on Tuesdays."

"Funny," she said with a flat affect. She sat on the floor and crossed her legs. "Why do we have to demolish my flat?"

"My flat is nicer, and the main level doesn't need anything done, and after this third floor is finished, we will make my old bedroom into a guestroom," he explained.

"Do I get any say in this?" she asked.

"Not really, since it's my house," he said. She frowned and he said, "What would you prefer we do?"

"I don't care, it's your house," she said. She stood up and started out of the room, but he grabbed her wrist.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Draco, just tell me what other plans you have up your sleeve, please!" She looked desperate.

He said, "Do you want to call off the wedding?"

She groaned and said, "No one is talking about that! I just want to know; when I come home from work tomorrow, will you have my cat in storage, too?"

"What?"

"You're bullying me!" she said.

"What?" he yelled again. "You know, someone has to do something! Someone has to make the plans. We're getting married in four months, and you haven't even gotten your dress yet. You haven't done a damn thing! If you have changed your mind, just tell me! I have a right to know!"

"This has NOTHING to do with the wedding, and maybe I haven't planned anything because you haven't let me. Perhaps you're the one having second thoughts, and perhaps you're the coward! If you're having second thoughts, would you even tell me? Draco, I would be just as happy if we eloped and got the whole damn thing over with, because, I can't take much more," she said, her voice a high shrill.

He said, "Fine, I'll stop all plans, and we'll elope. Next week, you take some time off work, and we'll go away, just you and me, and get married."

She stared at him as if he had two heads. The thing was, she could tell he was actually serious, because he had not even one little hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Mike Cooper walked in just then and he said, "Draco, I have the blueprints for the third floor finished."

Draco motioned at Mike to stop talking and said, "Hermione, tell me this instant, do you want to get married next week, or shall we call the whole thing off?"

"No, look at the blueprints. I'm going out for a bit." She said it with no emotion. She removed her arm from his hand.

"Do you want to see the blueprints?" Mike asked.

"No."

She picked up her purse from where she threw it on the floor of her now empty living room, and she started down the stairs. Draco ran after her.

"Hermione!"

She turned on the stairs.

"Don't forget my birthday party," he reminded her. "Remember? We're having people over tonight."

She nodded but turned around and left. He just gave her an ultimatum, and now he was reminding her about a freaking birthday party? She ran all the way down the stairs, and slammed the door shut as loud as she could.

Draco went back up the stairs and said to Mike, "Mike, we need to put the balcony back."

Hermione walked around for hours. She wasn't even sure where she was. An early summer rain was starting to fall, drenching her to the bone. She didn't care, because before she went home, if that place was indeed her home, she needed to get some things straight in her mind.

She loved Draco Malfoy.

She wanted to marry the aforesaid Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy was a selfish git.

And most important, everything was moving too fast and was out of her hands. Hermione liked to be in control. She liked to boss people around. So did Draco. What type of marriage would they have if they both tried to be the boss? It had to be a hell of a lot better than him being a bully and her being a limp dishrag.

She would stand up to him.

But then again, his plans for the house seemed nice. She honestly wouldn't mind what he had planned. She just hated all the surprises.

She found herself at Michael Corner's neighbourhood, so she called him on her mobile phone and asked if she could visit.

He said yes.

Hermione walked to Michael's front door and he was standing there waiting for her.

She smiled, and said, "Hello, Michael."

"Why aren't you getting ready for Draco's party? It's in an hour," he said.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

She sat at Michael's kitchen table and explained all her fears and worries. Everything was moving too fast. Draco was being a bully, but of course. Draco was a spoiled git. Hermione wanted to plan her own wedding. His parents still hated her. Her parents only merely disliked him. All of her belongings were in storage, and his remained behind. It didn't feel like her house. And the last thing she said, in her rambling, was… "Draco is going to leave me someday."

Michael Corner laughed.

"Draco really loves you," he said. "He's not leaving you, so get that last worry out of your mind. Everything else will fall into place, and if Draco's going too far, reign him in. You're a strong woman. It's your wedding, too. Also, tell him that to make his house into your house that you need to have some of your things around, too. Hermione, I've never known you to be bashful about telling people what your want. What is this really all about, Love?"

She placed her head on his table and he stroked her hair. He asked, "Are you having second thoughts?"

She shook her head, minutely, since it was on a table, and then looked up at him. She had a tear in the corner of her eye. She said, "No, it's not me. I told you. Draco's going to leave me someday. I'm afraid to be happy and to live in the moment, because once I get comfortable in it, he'll leave me."

He took her hand and said, "You're a nutter."

"Michael, I heard him tell Mike that very thing the other night at Mike's house," she said.

Michael frowned, and said, "What did he say, exactly?"

"He said that it was all too good to be true, and that he would probably do something to ruin it. He said that he was afraid to relax and be happy, because it was going to end, and he didn't want to hurt me," she said.

Now Michael smiled. "Hermione, he's probably just feeding off your insecurities, and that's why he feels that way. Draco is an intuitive person. He knows something's wrong."

"No," she denied, "I wasn't feeling this way until he said that."

"Yes you were, and you know it. Now answer my question from earlier, Love. Are you having second thoughts?" he asked.

She wasn't! It wasn't her fault that she felt this way. It was Draco's! Damn Michael 'the wanker' Corner, anyway.

Hermione stood up and said, "You don't understand anything!" Hermione ran out of Michael's house, in the pouring rain, leaving Michael Corner and his stupid theories behind her.

Michael showed up ten minutes late to Draco's birthday party, but it didn't seem to matter, as there wasn't much of a celebration happening. There were perhaps sixty people there, but no one was having any fun. Michael asked Lavender what was going on, and she explained that Hermione and Draco apparently had a fight, and she had yet to return home. Michael didn't want to betray Hermione's confidence, so he didn't tell anyone that he had spoken to her earlier. He couldn't find Draco to tell him anything, anyway, because Draco Malfoy wasn't even in the house.

He paced outside on the sidewalk, the rain coming down in sheets upon him. He placed his hand through his hair and stared down first one side of the street, and then the other. Where was she?

Harry Potter came outside and asked, "Where is she?"

"I don't know." Draco was worried. He shouldn't have pressured her. He shouldn't have forced her. He told her last week she could have her dream autumn wedding, and now he was pressuring her to get married in a week. He was a cad and a coward. He just couldn't lose her, not now.

He turned to Harry, to ask him to help find her, when he saw Harry point over Draco's shoulder. Harry said, "Here she comes now."

She was running toward the house, holding up a big black umbrella. She had changed into a pretty, black dress. He was already wet, so he ran out to meet her.

He met her under the umbrella. She held it higher to accommodate him. She brushed back the wet bangs from his forehead, and leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She said, "Happy Birthday, one day early."

"Where were you?" he asked, "And thank you for the birthday wish."

She took her wand out of her purse and dried him instantly. She said, "Draco, I have some things to say to you. I had to go clear my head, then I went to Michael's house, and he made me see some things plainly. We aren't getting married next week. I'm going to have my autumn wedding. I'm not going to let you bully me anymore. I'm going to make the rest of the wedding plans."

"I want to decorate the house with some of my things, if it's going to be my home, and I want to have a say in the plans. Most importantly, I want to be sure that this is real and that you aren't going to leave me when this is all said and done. I heard what you said to Mike about how this was too good to last. Well, I have news for you. I feel the same way. Michael made me see that, but that's something we need to get over. There, I've had my say."

She felt like a weight lifted off her shoulders. She told him what she thought, and how she felt, and he would either accept it or not. Either way, if she was expected to participate in the marriage, she was going to participate in the wedding. It was high TIME!

He merely looked at her. He didn't say a word. Her smiled soon slipped off her face. She asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

He continued to stare at her. Finally, after many long moments, moments when time seemed to stand completely still once more, with Hermione and Draco still standing in the rain under a shared umbrella, Draco said, "You've picked a hell of a time to tell me that you're having doubts!"

After all this time, Hermione wondered why that was the only thing he had heard.

* * *

_Coming up:_

_She was sitting in the opened doors of the third floor, her legs dangling where her patio used to be. He walked up behind her. She turned and looked at him. _

_He said, "It's after midnight. I'm another year older."_

"_Hmm," she sighed. She turned her head back toward the cloudy, starless night. He sat beside her and said, "Hey where did the balcony go?"_

_Hermione knocked her shoulder into his. She said, "We need to talk, don't we?"'_

"_Yes, I think we do."_


	32. 32 Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 32 – Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself:**

Draco once heard their Headmaster at school say that there was nothing to fear but fear itself. Later in life, Draco found out that some Yank Muggle President said it first. Draco knew a lot about fear.

When he was a child, he was afraid of the dark. His father told him that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys feared nothing. Draco knew better. He was four years old, and he was scared of the dark. Therefore, his mother charmed a candle to burn brightly when Draco was in the room alone, but if his father would open the door and come in, the candle would snuff itself out.

Later, in school, Draco Malfoy was afraid of not being liked. He hated that Harry Potter was more popular than he was, and that Hermione Granger was smarter than he was. He hated how everyone doted on the 'golden trio' while he was left out in the cold. It wasn't a nice feeling to be out of the inner circle.

When Draco was a young man, he was afraid of failure. The Dark Lord assigned him a task to kill Albus Dumbledore. If he failed, then his whole family would die. He didn't kill him, Snape did, and his family was safe, but that year his fear was so heavy in the air that it was palpable.

When Draco became a man, he was afraid of commitment. His fears, which were mostly unfounded, stemmed from his parents' relationship, and the fear that he would turn out just like them: unhappy and compliant, with no real affection for the other person. He was afraid for others to be dependent on him for their happiness. He never wanted to be responsible for another person's well-being. He was afraid of hurting someone, and in the long run, hurting himself.

Now, all Draco had to be afraid of was fear itself. He was no longer afraid of the dark. Harry Potter was still more popular than he was, but he no longer cared. Hermione Granger was still smarter than he was, but he loved her in spite of that fact. Voldemort was long dead and gone. Last, but not least, Draco was engaged to be married, and insanely happy about it. He was no longer afraid of commitment or of turning out like his parents. He had since realized that he was different from them, and he dictated his own happiness. He also knew that everyone was responsible for their own peace of mind and well-being, so he no longer had the fear of hurting others.

Now, he had one single fear. He was afraid of others hurting him, of rejecting him. He was afraid of one person. Namely, the woman he was engaged to marry. A certain witch by the name of Miss Hermione Jean Granger. That Muggle American President, Draco thought his name was something like Roosevelt, had it wrong when he said there was nothing to fear but fear itself. There was so much more to it than that. In Draco's opinion, there was nothing to fear but Hermione's doubt and _her_ fear.

Draco left the safety and security of Hermione's umbrella and trekked back toward the townhouse in the rain. Harry was still standing on the steps. Hermione remained under the umbrella on the sidewalk. Harry asked, "What's wrong?"

Draco said, "Hermione's having doubts." He walked in the door and left the pair alone outside.

Hermione walked toward Harry and gave him a look. Harry had known her long enough to read her silent expression. She had known him long enough to read his silent indignation. She walked up the steps, opened the front door and said, "Don't say a word to me Harry."

When Harry and Hermione walked into the house, music was suddenly playing, food had appeared, and spirits (of the alcoholic variety) were flowing freely. It was a celebration after all. For all outward appearances, Draco was the life of his own birthday party, with nary a care in the world. On the inside though, he was under the influence of a numbing anesthetic called 'fear'.

While outside he was laughing, telling jokes, thanking people for their birthday salutations, on the inside a voice was screaming bloody murder, "SHE HAS DOUBTS!"

He was afraid that now that she had admitted her doubts, something he had suspected for a while, she would come to her senses and realize that she never loved him, just as he told Mike the other night at dinner. All his fears were happening. He barely knew how to process it all.

Hermione walked in the room, he turned to look at her, and suddenly, even though they were in a room full of people, it seemed it was only her and him. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm. He looked at her hand, and moved his arm in a jerking, sudden movement, almost as if she had burned him. He said, "Don't ruin my birthday, Hermione." He turned back to the others, and she walked toward the other room.

Hermione had no idea how she got through the night and with a smile on her face no less. Draco received many useless presents, and one or two useful ones. He blew out his birthday candles, and even put a dollop of icing on Hermione's cheek, only to lick it off. It was as if they were in a weird play, where everything was back to normal, but nothing was real. She felt like she was in a drug-induced haze.

It was like the twilight zone on speed.

After the last of their guests left, Hermione went around picking up glasses and plates and forks. She heard the clock on the mantle chime once, so she figured since it was now after midnight, and it was officially his birthday, she would find him and give him his present, and more importantly, find out what was wrong with him.

The problem was that she looked everywhere for him, but couldn't find him. She feared that the show was over, the jig was up, and the fat lady had finally sung. Draco and Hermione as a couple were over, and she didn't even know how it happened. Perhaps he really did finally leave her, just as she was fearful he was going to do. She didn't know what she said that upset him so much. All she did was tell him that she wanted more control, and oh yeah, just like him, she was having doubts.

Doubts didn't equal second thoughts. Besides, she didn't doubt her own feelings, just his.

She walked up to her old flat, not knowing where else to go. If, and when, Draco reappeared, he probably wouldn't want to sleep with her tonight, so she would make up a bed up there.

She went to her bedroom, which was completely devoid of light, as well as furniture. She opened up the balcony doors, and looked outside to the empty space in front of her. She felt as if the balcony, or really the former balcony, was the scene of the crime. She cursed the day she ever set foot on the balcony. That's right, she blamed the now nonexistent balcony for her current dishevel with her fiancé.

Draco was in the back garden, smoking a cigarette, which was something he very rarely did. He noticed Hermione open the door on the third floor. He cursed the day he had the damn thing torn down. If they hadn't fought about the balcony today, then he would still be oblivious to the fact that she was having doubts, and he would be embraced in ignorant happiness.

He snuffed out his cigarette, and walked in the house. He took the stairs slowly. He had no plan, no sense of what he would say to her. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before she claimed she had qualms about their impending marriage. Damn her for ruining the day before his birthday.

He walked in her former flat and called out her name.

She was sitting in the opened doorway off the third floor, where the balcony used to be, her legs dangling in the air. He walked up behind her. She turned and looked at him.

He said, "It's after midnight. I'm another year older."

"Hmm," she sighed.

She turned her head back toward the cloudy, starless night. He sat beside her and said, "Hey where did the balcony go?"

Hermione knocked her shoulder into his. She said, "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yes, I think we do."

"You go first," she said.

He hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Do you want to cancel the wedding?"

She looked as if he had punched her. She took a breath in, placed her hand on her chest, and said, "NO! Why, do you? That's what you want, isn't it?" She stood up so suddenly that he was afraid she was going to fall off the ledge. He stood as well as she began to rant, "I knew it! It was too good to last!"

"Hey, wait a bloody minute, Hermione!" Draco shouted. "I didn't say I wanted to end the engagement! I merely inquired if that's what you wanted!"

She was taking such deep, laboured breaths that he was becoming concerned. She placed her hand on her chest again and then quietly, in muted tones, asked, "Are you having doubts?"

"Are you?" he asked.

She looked to be on the verge of tears. She said one word, but the word he was afraid of hearing wasn't the word she uttered. She said, "No."

Hermione wasn't even aware that she was backing away from him until she noticed that he was walking toward her. He reached for her arm, but she took a quicker step away from him. He placed his hand at his side and said, "Then why have you been acting so strange lately, if it's not because you're reconsidering?"

She looked at the floor, and then back to him. She said, "I've felt like all of this was spinning out of control. None of it was going the way it was supposed to go. None of it. The way we became engaged, the way we met each other's parents, the plans for the wedding, the plans for the house; it's as if we're in different worlds sometimes, Draco. It's as if we're redefining the way things are done, putting a new spin on things, and I don't like it one bit. Call me a traditionalist, but I don't like it, and I haven't been able to tell you."

She added, "The whole thing with the balcony just brought it to a head. It was the last straw, so to speak. It made me see that you really haven't a clue of what I want, or what I value or treasure. It's like nothing I care about matters. I feel like I am losing my identity, and I don't want that ever to happen. That doesn't mean I don't want to marry you. The only thing I've doubted all along is your rush to get married and your feelings for the whole thing."

He frowned at that. He started to say something, to defend himself, but she continued, "Usually it's the bride who takes control of the wedding, but you've taken charge of everything, and there's been no room for me in the plans. It seems you don't even need me."

"And whose fault is that?" he asked with a hiss. "I thought you didn't want to do anything. You seemed happy to let me take control, or so I thought, but let's get back to something you just said. You claim your doubts are because you doubt the fact that I might have doubts?"

"First…what?" she asked with a frown. "I don't even know what you just asked. Second, let's get back to the other point first," she argued, "I wasn't given a say in any of the plans!"

"Well, if you want your 'dream wedding in the autumn'," he started, sarcastically, "then someone had to take control. October 5th is just four months away, you know!"

"No one said we had to get married THIS fall!" she spat back.

Now Draco was the one that looked flabbergasted. He asked, "You want to wait a year? More than a year! That's like being told a movie you've been waiting to see in November now won't come out until next summer! If everything is ready, and everyone is prepared, while what, unless something is wrong? It's ludicrous, no matter what anyone says! You seriously want to wait?"

"Maybe I do," she said softly.

He walked over to the door, and placed his hand on the light switch. He turned the overhead light on, and then switched it back off. He was buying time, because he was afraid of what she would admit to next. He turned the light on again and without looking, he said, "You are having second thoughts, no matter how you spin it." He said it as a statement, not a question. That was what it boiled down to, and he knew it. He wanted to rush things so she wouldn't have time to change her mind, but also, so he couldn't change his, but he was afraid to tell her that.

He knew she had a point. He had been rushing things, and not considering her feelings, but that was because he was afraid she would come to her senses and kick him to the curb. He figured if he did all the work, and took it out of her hands, then she wouldn't have any reason to back out. If he had known that she would back out anyway, he wouldn't have worked so hard.

She said, "Draco, the only doubts I have been having are about you, and I don't mean about us together, or as a couple. I have doubted your sincerity since the beginning. So, the only doubts I'm harboring are about you and your true intentions."

He gave her a quizzical look and said, "Isn't that what I just said? You _are_ having doubts about me!"

He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders. He said, "You doubt how much you really love me and whether or not you want to marry me, don't you?" He pulled on one of her arms, and almost dragged her from the room. He took them to her bathroom, stood in front of the mirror above the sink, and said, "Look at yourself and be truthful for once! Look yourself in the eye and tell me that you don't doubt all of the things I just said! At least be truthful to yourself, if you can't be truthful to me."

Instead of looking in her own eyes, she looked at his reflection's eyes in the mirror and said, "When I said my doubt was about you, I meant that I doubted how much you loved me and whether or not you would go through with the wedding. I doubt your intent and sincerity. You've been like a mad man, going about doing all of these things behind my back, but seemingly devoid of real emotion. It's bizarre and unnerving." She turned and looked at his face.

Fear. He knew she could see his fear, because Hermione Granger hit the fucking nail on the head.

She added, "I heard you and Mike. I heard you tell him that you were having second thoughts."

"What the hell do you think you heard, Hermione?" Draco asked, staring down at her with indignation.

"I heard you say that you thought it would end and that you would hurt me and I would end up hating you," she said softly, gently.

He looked confused. He racked his brain to remember exactly what he had said to Mike the other night, but whatever it was, she had only heard a small portion of the conversation, and she had misunderstood. More to the point, she had been acting like this long before his conversation with Mike.

"Hermione, that's a bunch of shite, and you know it. Yes, I told Mike I was afraid of hurting you, but it's because of the way you've been acting lately that made me say the things I said, half of which I don't even recall." He grabbed her shoulders once more, less harshly than before, and pulled her up to him. He said, "Look in my eyes, and tell me you can't see that I'm telling you the truth. I'm not leaving you."

She stared at him intently. She didn't know what she saw. She said, "Look in my eyes. I'm not leaving you, either. I just want to be sure that this is really what you want."

"I'll never leave you, I promise you that," he said.

"I won't leave either, but why do we have to rush it all?" she asked.

"You were the one that wanted to marry, long before I did," he felt compelled to point out. "The longer we wait the more fear you'll have. The more fear you have, the more doubt you'll have, and in the long run, there's nothing to be afraid of, but the unknown, and we know perfectly well what we're doing, so hence, no fear, Hermione, no fear. Don't you know that there's nothing to fear but fear itself?"

He smiled at her with an impish grin. She really did wish his words were comforting and that she could trust him, but deep down, she didn't. She knew there was more to fear than the fear of the unknown, or fear itself. There was so much more to fear.

As if sensing her dilemma, he said, "Please, look in my eyes, and tell me you don't see how much I love you."

She looked in his eyes. She just didn't know what she was supposed to see. It was true, she could see his love, but was that enough? He cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her gently. He rubbed his thumbs on her cheeks and said, "Please, answer me. Look in my eyes and tell me what you see, Hermione."

His pleas sounded close to desperation. She leaned her forehead on his chest. She said, "I know you love me." That was the most she could say. She would just have to trust the rest. She lifted her head and said, "Do you want your birthday present now?"

"Since it's my birthday, that would be nice," he said. He led her by the hand out of the bathroom, toward the door to her old flat. She pulled on his arm to stop.

"What?" he asked.

"Your present is here," she said.

He actually looked around her now empty living room. She said, "No silly." She placed her hand in his pocket.

He laughed and said, "Fresh," and then tried to slap her hand away. She began to dig around in his pocket and he said, "Seriously, Hermione, that's not my wand you're tampering with."

"Shut up," she said. Soon, she pulled out a small, green, velvet pouch.

"How did that get in there?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow.

"Magic," she said, adding, "or perhaps I placed it there yesterday morning, one or the other. Open it."

He pulled on the little drawstring and then emptied the contents of the bag in his hand. He examined the small charm. It was a smooth, silver charm, which was no larger than a coin, and it was oval, with a small emerald in the middle.

"What is it?" he asked, moving the little charm to his other hand, and examining it closer.

"Hold it up to your eye," she said.

"Is it going to squirt pumpkin juice in my eye?" he asked jokingly.

She placed one hand on her hip and said scathingly, "Yes, Draco Malfoy, that's it exactly. I got you a charm that will squirt pumpkin juice in your eye. Happy birthday, I hope you like it."

"Well, you never know." He took the charm and put it up to his eye, closing his other eye, and squinted into the small, round, emerald center.

Once he looked inside, it was as if he was watching his own dream. He saw everything clearly. He saw Hermione and him walking alone on a cold, brisk evening, not touching, but both laughing and enjoying themselves. He saw himself start to reach for Hermione's hand, and then pull away. He saw himself take off his jacket and place it around her shoulders. Suddenly, he knew this was not an illusion. It was the night of their double date, hers with Michael Corner and his with whatever her name was.

He pulled the charm away from his eye and said, "What is this?"

"I had it made especially for you, by George Weasley," she said. She took it from his hand and said, "I've had it for a while. I was going to give it to you a long time ago, but after your talk with Mike the other night, I felt scared to give it to you, and so I thought I would just hide it in your grey suit, because I knew you would wear it on your birthday. I thought you would find it yourself. There's a note in your pocket explaining what it is."

He reached in his pocket and withdrew the note. He read the note aloud. "Happy Birthday, Draco. Look inside the emerald. The pendant is charmed to show you when you first fell in love with me."

He read the note a second time, quietly, looked at her, and smiled. "I'm not even sure I knew that was when I first loved you, although, thinking back, I'm sure it was." He took the pendant back from her and said, "Does it only work on me?'

"I really don't know," she answered honestly. She took it once more from him and looked inside.

She saw the very same night at the same moment, so at first she was disappointed. She thought she was seeing his memory as well, but on closer inspection, she realized she was seeing it from her point of view. They actually fell in love at the same time.

She brought it slowly down from her face and said, "It's an anomaly, this thing called love. People think they feel it at one time, when it is really thrust upon them at another. I thought I felt it so much earlier than when I actually did, and you thought you felt it later, so in a way, we were both blind."

"What did you see?" he asked, wanting clarification.

She said, "Look in my eyes, and you tell me. When did I fall in love with you, Draco?" She took the velvet pouch from his hand, slipped the pendant back in the pouch, and placed the pouch back in his pocket.

She leaned up and placed her arms tightly around his neck. He placed his arms around her waist. He looked in her eyes and said, "All I see are brown eyes, the beginnings of a few crow's feet, a left over tear, and oh yes, the fact that you fell in love with me at the exact moment that I fell in love with you. Am I right?"

She frowned and said, "I don't have crow's feet."

"Don't worry, my dear, on you they are distinguished. You know, for the next couple of months we are the same age," he said.

She kissed his chin and said, "I thought you were older, what with your white hair and all."

He pulled on her hair. He said, "It's my birthday, so behave. Let's go to bed, and by bed, I mean it as a euphemism for sex, okay?"

"Well, of course, it's your birthday," she remarked. She unwrapped her arms from around his neck and started out of her old flat. He pulled her back to him.

He said, "Let's sleep up here on the floor, and make it a little adventure, what do you say?"

She said, "I always liked adventure."

He touched her cheek and he said, "Yes, I really think that pendant got it all wrong. I think I loved you that day you made lasagna, and I touched your cheek, as I'm doing right now. I did it as a test, you know, even though I told you that I didn't feel a thing. Also, I knew you felt your little butterflies, and I felt them, too."

"You are such a sly one, Draco Malfoy," she said. "I believe the pendant is faulty as well, because I think I really fell in love with you earlier in the evening of our double date, when you rushed in my bathroom, like a white knight, and saved me from the evil hot wax."

He laughed and said, "I know that's when I fell in lust with you. Seeing your naked body on the floor, and then later when I held it up against my chest, well, my heart wasn't the only thing aflutter, I tell you that much. It was all I could do not to ravish you when I put you on the bed, even with that pervert Joe in the flat with us." He reached around and pinched her bum.

She swatted his hand and said, "If that had happened, we might already be married by now. See, you only have yourself to blame for the fact that we aren't yet wed."

Hermione led him to the empty bedroom. He said, "Who knows, we might even already have had a bun in the oven by now."

She stopped him with her hand on his chest and said, "Speaking of buns and ovens, did you know that Lavender and Mike lied to everyone? They were farther along than four months pregnant at the wedding, although one would never have known by looking at her."

Draco frowned slightly and said, "What do you mean? When is the kid due to make an appearance?"

"Next month," Hermione said, laughing.

"Gee, talk about rushing things. If I get you pregnant, I will be sure to tell you first, okay. That's my new policy; tell Hermione everything before hand."

"I'm not sure you would know that one before me," she said, as she slipped out of her dress.

"Why are we still talking? There's birthday sex to be had, and that's better than make up sex, in my opinion." He threw off his jacket and transfigured it to a comfortable, down-filled duvet, so they would have a place to make love. He threw his wand in the corner of the room and then kicked off his shoes.

She slipped off her shoes and said, "Is it better than 'goodbye sex'? Because the sex we had before Lavender's wedding wasn't too bad, except for the fact that we both thought it would be the last time." She removed her bra.

He removed his slacks and reached for her, cupping one breast. He said, "I knew the instant I made love to you that night that it wasn't really goodbye. It was the beginning, not the end. I'm sorry I wasted our time, not jumping your bones after the hot wax incident, and then the whole thing with the 'I'm never getting married'. Now I can't think of anything that I want more."

She kissed him languidly and said, "Are you sure there's nothing you want more?"

"Well…"

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? THAT'S THE MOST DISGUSTING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!"_

_Hermione walked in the living room took him by the shoulders and slapped him across the face. "Get a grip, man!"_

_Then, he did the unthinkable. He slapped her back._

_They heard another scream and they both ran to the other room._


	33. 33 Wednesday's Child

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 33: Wednesday's Child:**

Hermione Granger was born on Wednesday, Sept 19, 1979. When she was a little girl, her great-aunt Ida, her mother's aunt, told her a little nursery rhyme that mentioned all the days of the week. It went as such:

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go.

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day,

Is bonny, blithe, good and gay.

It's preposterous to think that you can tell a child's character or future based on the day of the week in which they were born. However, the fact that she was born on Wednesday, and the only negative trait in the whole nursery rhyme was attributed to that day, always bothered her.

When she was a child and she used to say that rhyme aloud, she would imagine that she was a 'Tuesday's child' full of grace, or a 'Monday's child' fair of face. Who wanted to be full of woe? Not Hermione Granger.

This whole thing with Draco made her full of woe. She was slightly happier, and a bit more involved, however, something still seemed off. They had yet to have a real discussion of their true feelings, and Hermione felt that something had to happen soon, and before the wedding. She thought she might plan a romantic weekend for them at the beginning of next month, right after their engagement party at her parents' house on August 27. They could be all alone, without any outside influences, and they could sort out their feelings.

Hermione wanted to be sure that everything was going to turn out right, before they went ahead with the wedding.

This was how she had spent her whole life. Planning, arranging, and then rearranging. She rarely did anything unless she was certain of the outcome, and if that made her full of woe, than full of woe she would be.

This Wednesday's child was going to be 100 percent sure this was what they both wanted before they continued.

Draco was born on a Friday. According to the poem, Friday's child was loving and giving. He wasn't particularly that loving or giving, at least not unless there was something in it for him.

Ron was born on a Saturday, and it was true that he always had to work hard for a living.

Harry was born on a Thursday, so his attribute was somewhat telling, in the fact that he indeed had far to go.

Nevertheless, the notion that Hermione Granger was full of woe was poppycock and codswallop! Total, unadulterated nonsense, that's what it was.

Except, maybe not.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was trying on wedding dresses, on a Wednesday afternoon, at Lavender's house. Lavender, who was now eight and a half months pregnant, instead of the mere six and a half months that she told everyone she was, had arranged for some of her fashionable contacts to deliver a handful of beautiful dresses to her home so that Hermione could finally pick one out. Hermione, Joe and Lavender were in Lavender's bedroom, doing just that, on a sunny, summer, Wednesday afternoon.

Mike had gone to his Muggle grandmother's funeral, so Joe was staying with Lavender. When he first walked in the bedroom, his hands full of gowns, he asked, "What are we talking about, ladies?"

"Draco and Hermione," Lavender said.

"Don't we all get rather tired of that conversation?" he asked. Lavender muffled a small laugh, but Hermione looked perturbed.

She said, "I haven't spoken to you about Draco in a long time, Joseph Mullins!"

"Well, that doesn't mean that I haven't talked a lot about you and Draco to Lavender," he said, quite honestly. "It's always 'will they or won't they' or 'who's the most confused today', or 'Is Draco always going to be a jerk'."

"To answer your questions, we will, no one's confused today, and yes," Hermione said, taking one of the dresses from his arms and going into the toilet to try it on. She didn't even come out of the bathroom. She threw it on the floor, reached out her arm, and said, "NEXT!"

"I want to see them on you, Hermione. Try them on out here," Lavender said. "It's just me and Joe, and we've both seen you naked."

Hermione walked out and tried on the second dress. She barely had it on for a minute before it joined the first one of the floor.

Joe helped Hermione to button up the third of the ten dresses, but before she could even look in the mirror, she said, "Oh, I don't like this one, either. Take it off me!"

"It's very nice," Lavender said from the bed.

"Let me finish buttoning it," Joe said.

"No, it's itchy," Hermione said, while wiggling around.

Joe jerked her closer to him and continued to button the dress. "I promised your stupid intended you would pick out a dress today, and I intend to keep my promise. This is the nicest dress so far, so just shut up and put it on. I'm not going to let you use the excuse that you can't find a dress as the excuse as to why you can't marry." He continued buttoning it even as she squirmed, hemmed, and hawed.

She turned when he finished buttoning the dress and said, "I'm not canceling the wedding, and I don't make excuses! What we should be doing is making the finger food for Lavender's shower tonight," Hermione said, as she looked at the dress in the full-length mirror. She said, "I don't like this, get it off me."

Joe unbuttoned the dress and Hermione climbed out of it. She said, "Who's coming tonight?"

"Everyone," Joe laughed. "Unlike you, Lavender has a lot of friends, even female ones."

Hermione made a face at him and said, "I have female friends."

"Name three," Joe said.

"Lavender, Ginny and you," she said.

"Very funny," Joe said with disdain.

Hermione walked over to the window, in only her knickers and strapless bra and sighed. Lavender gave Joe a funny look. Joe walked up to Hermione and said, "What's going on in your head, Hermione?"

"Nothing, really. It's just a pretty day out, isn't it?" she said wistfully. She had already told her friends about the latest development in the never-ending saga of Draco and Hermione. Joe said that he was frankly tired of it all, and he refused to listen to anymore, but then he sat down and listened to her whole story anyway.

Her friends told her that she was being silly, that if her only doubt was that Draco was going to leave her someday and not that she wanted to leave him, then she was being a fool, because Draco was never going to leave her.

Somehow, she still wasn't convinced. What if his fear was the one grounded in truth, and she left him? Didn't anyone besides Draco ever consider that? Hermione was beginning to consider that very thing. The only problem was that she couldn't tell a single soul.

Joe patted her arm and said, "Enough talk. Try this one on."

Hermione held the pale ivory, off the shoulders, sheathe dress away from her and said, "This one's lovely." Joe looked over to Lavender and smiled.

"That's the dress Draco picked out for you in the beginning," Lavender said as Hermione stepped into the dress.

"NO!" Hermione said in disbelief.

"Yes," Draco said from the doorway.

"Hey, I'm half-dressed," she said.

"Hey, I've seen you completely undressed," he answered.

He sat next to Lavender, looked at her belly, and said, "Gee, you're as big as a hippogriff. How in the world were you going to pass this kid off as premature?"

"Sod off," Lavender said.

"Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?" he asked.

Lavender asked, "Answer me this. Would you kiss your fiancée with your mouth after I tell you to kiss my arse?"

"Enough you two," Hermione said. "I swear, worse than children."

Joe finished buttoning the dress and Hermione spun around. "It's beautiful," Lavender said.

"It's perfect," Joe said.

"It's expensive," Draco said.

"It's my wedding dress," Hermione said lastly, quietly, and almost to herself. Then she looked at Draco and said, "Its bad luck for you to see me in my wedding dress.

"Bull shite," Draco said.

"Well, if something unlucky happens on our wedding day, it's your fault," she said.

"Fine, I can accept the blame. If something bad happens, I will take all the blame," he declared. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her, and stared at her in the mirror. He said, "You would find a way to blame me anyway, I'm sure."

Joe gathered the other dresses up in his arms and said, "I'm going to return these, and then get the rest of the food for the party. Hermione, you and Draco decorate Lavender's living room. Lavender, you just rest for the shower, okay?"

Joe disapparated right from the spot. Hermione turned to Draco and said, "Help me take this off," and she turned so her back was once more to him.

"Gladly," he said. He unbuttoned the dress slowly, letting his thumb slide down her spinal column as he went. He kissed her bare shoulder and then he slipped the dress over her arms, his fingers lightly skimming her skin, leaving goose pimples. He leaned his head over and kissed the juncture between her neck and shoulder, as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Lavender said, "I would tell you two to get a room, but I sort of like to watch."

Hermione laughed and gathered the dress, which had pooled at her feet, into her arms and she headed toward the bathroom.

Draco walked over to Lavender and said, "How's my godchild?"

"You're not the godfather," she said.

"Ha, that's what you know."

"I know, because it's my child."

"Is Hermione the godmother?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then it stands to reason, I'm the godfather," he surmised.

"Michael Corner is the godfather," Lavender declared.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom, the dress bag containing her gown over her arm, now fully dressed, and she said, "Draco already knows that, because Mike told him. He thinks he can bully you into changing your mind."

"I don't bully people," he complained.

Hermione made a weird noise, which meant, 'yes you do' and she said, "I'm popping home for a bit, to hang this up, and then I'm getting our present for the baby, and I'll be right back to start the decorations. Draco, stay here in case Lavender needs something."

"Now who's the bully," he asked. He scooted to the back of the bed and plopped down beside Lavender.

"Don't bother her," Hermione said as she disapparated away.

"Am I bothering you?" Draco asked.

Lavender made a funny face.

"A yes or no would suffice," Draco said.

"Oh, no," Lavender said, inhaling deeply.

Draco got a panicked look on his face and he scooted back off the bed. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Draco, I feel funny," she said. She held her stomach and began to take deep breaths. "I've been having these strange pains off and on all day, but I thought it was gas. Now I'm not so sure, because it really, really hurts!

"WHAT?" he asked. "You better not be having that kid right now!"

"Go get Hermione," she said.

"Cross your legs, I'll be right back."

Draco disapparated home. Their house was still a mess. Their new master suite was mostly done, as was the dressing area that used to be her kitchen. The bathroom was still bare bones and her office was incomplete, except for the lovely new balcony, which had been added, to take place of the one he had removed.

He ran all throughout the house, looking for Hermione, but she wasn't even there.

She had gone to pick up the baby's gift first. It was still at the jewelers. Hermione was the only one whom Lavender had told that she was having a girl. She hadn't even told Mike, because he didn't want to know. Hermione got the baby a little charm bracelet, and she figured she could get her a new charm every year, for her birthday. She would get the charm bracelet, have it wrapped, go help Joe get the food, and still have enough time to decorate. It sounded like a wonderful plan.

Draco stood in the middle of his kitchen and screamed as loudly as he could, "HERMIONE!"

He popped back to Lavender's house, and she was upstairs, still on the bed, and she said, "Where did you go?"

"I went to get help," he said.

"Good, where are they?"

"I couldn't find anyone," Draco said.

Lavender started to cry and she said, "I want Mike."

Draco wanted to cry as well, as he thought, 'I want him, too.' He said, "I'll go find him," thankful to get out of there.

"NO! Don't leave me alone again!" she yelled.

"But…" Draco started.

"NO!"

"Can you stand up?" Draco asked. "We'll floo to St. Mungo's. There's bound to be someone there who knows how to deliver a baby."

"Do you think?" Lavender asked sarcastically. She sat up and said, "Go get my bag. It's in the baby's nursery." Draco ran from the room. When he came back Lavender said, "When I imagined having my baby, you were the last person I pictured would be here."

"Back at you," Draco said.

"Where's Hermione and Joe?" she cried as she stood up. Draco offered her a hand.

"Listen, it takes hours, sometimes days to deliver a baby, so we have plenty of time," Draco said. Lavender wasn't so sure.

"Merlin! Help me, I'm having my baby and the only person here is Draco Malfoy! The baby will be born shallow and vapid!"

"HEY!" Draco said, taking her arm. "I rather doubt it will have my traits just because I'm the one that's helping you to hospital!"

Just then, Lavender's water broke and she screamed. Draco stepped away from the woman and screamed as well, as the water gushed out and splashed on his shoes and pant legs. He ran out of the room, down the hall toward the living room, in an almost dance, picking his feet up and shaking his hands.

Hermione had just arrived back at Lavender's house when she heard them both scream. She realized at that point, what was happening, she ran from the foyer, and met Draco in the living room.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? THAT'S THE MOST DISGUSTING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!" he screamed, referring to the fact that Lavender's water had broken.

Hermione walked in the living room, took him by the shoulders and slapped him across the face. "Get a grip, man!"

Then, he did the unthinkable. He slapped her back.

They heard another scream and they both ran to the other room.

Joe had just apparated back as well, saw the puddle of water around Lavender's feet, and he was the one that they heard screaming.

Draco was still doing an odd dance, Joe was still screaming, and Hermione had a look of utter disgust on her face. She took Lavender's hand and led her to the floo, leaving both hysterical men to tend for themselves.

Two hours later, Hermione walked toward the two previously hysterical men and said, "She's a beautiful little girl. Mike just got here. Ten toes, ten fingers, and a head of hair that would put Draco to shame."

"What's her name?" Joe asked.

"Periwinkle?" Draco asked back with a laugh. Joe joined the laughter.

Even Hermione laughed and said, "Close."

"NO!" Joe said. "What is it?"

"Azure," Hermione answered.

"That's a stupid name," Draco said.

Mike came in the lobby and said, "Said the man with a stupid name. Her full name is Azure Rose Cooper." He turned to Hermione and said, "Lavender said you were a lifesaver. She said Joe and Draco both screamed like little girls."

Draco said, "He screamed like a little girl. I screamed like a man."

"Well, you danced like a little girl, arsehole," Joe said to Draco. "Oh no, I just remembered, the shower! All the guests will arrive in about twenty minutes!"

"You go back there and tell them all what happened," Hermione said. "And tell them to leave the presents."

Joe nodded and left. Mike left the lobby and Hermione walked over to Draco, who pulled her down to his lap. There were no other people in the lobby, so he turned her head to face him, and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.

"I promise not to be disgusted when you have our baby," he said.

"Good to know, Draco Malfoy," she said, as she cuddled into his chest. "I can't believe you slapped me."

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

"A bit," she said back.

"I wasn't in my right mind. I will never hit you again; it's just that she got that fluid stuff on my shoes, Hermione. It was quite traumatic," he said.

She laughed and said, "The poor little girl was born on a Wednesday, just like me. Her life will be full of woe."

"What?" he asked.

She recited her great aunt's nursery rhyme to Draco and he said, "I think you are fair of face, and full of grace. You are certainly not full of woe."

"Thank you, that's nice of you to say," she said. She traced the buttons of his shirt and then kissed his bare collarbone. "Having a baby seems like it hurts."

"Yes it does," he said. "Good thing you're the one having it instead of me. I don't like pain."

"I don't like it either," she reasoned. "Do you want children?"

"I think so," he said. He had never given it much thought besides the obligatory; 'I want three children' phrase that he often quoted when asked that question. However, with Hermione, he could be truthful and say that he wasn't sure, because, he wasn't. "I'm pretty sure I do."

"I think I do, too," she answered. She knew that most women wanted children, and while she told people she wanted children, (she even told herself that on occasion) when she really gave it deep thought, it was just another thing on her long list of things that confused her. She wanted them, but she didn't. "The word 'dichotomy' comes to my mind for some reason. I want children, yet I don't. It's strange. I think I want them."

Draco laughed and said, "We are such a sorry pair. It's a good thing we found each other, for it would be a shame to pair us up with normal people. We deserve each other in so many ways that it's scary."

Hermione grinned and kissed his neck. "I bet we would have cute kids."

"Better looking than Potter's brats," Draco said.

"His kids are cute!" she said.

"If you like ginger hair and glasses," Draco said.

Hermione frowned for a moment and said, "They both have dark hair, and neither wear glasses."

"I was talking about the parents," Draco said.

Hermione grinned again and placed her hand on his cheek. He turned to look at her and she said, "Well, our children will be beautiful."

"Undoubtedly. They will look like me, take after you in the brains department, and be rich. What more could we ask?" he asked.

"You're so shallow," she said, although she thought that sounded nice, to have good-looking, smart, rich children. She just couldn't let on that she was as shallow as he was. She had a reputation, after all. Finally, she said, "Do you think your parents will ever come around to accepting us, even if we have kids someday?"

"No," he answered. He didn't and he really couldn't say that he didn't care, because he did, but there was nothing to be done about it. Hermione's parents were throwing them an engagement party at the end of August and his parents refused to come. They hadn't even tried to meet with Hermione again. They sent back their wedding invitation. Draco knew it would do no good to try to convince them to accept it as it was. All he could do was accept them, as they were…two judgmental, arrogant, mean-hearted people who didn't love their son enough to want him to be happy.

"Do you want to go home now?" she asked quietly. She knew that every time they brought up his parents, he became sad and solemn.

"Let's go look at the baby first. I want to see this little girl, born on a Wednesday, who will be full of woe, and saddled with a name like Azure," he said. He gently pushed her from his lap and he took her hand. They walked to the nursery and asked the nurse behind the glass if they could see the Cooper baby.

The nurse held up little Azure Rose Cooper. She had a mop of blonde curls on her head. She had a pink, squished up face, and Hermione thought she was beautiful. She placed a hand on the glass, she felt Draco press up behind her, and he placed his hand on hers.

"She's a pretty little girl, even if her mother won't make me the godfather," he said.

Hermione turned her head to look at him and said, "Maybe you should make Lavender an offer she can't refuse, and she'll change her mind and make you godfather." She smiled, because she didn't think he would catch on to her 'Muggle' movie reference.

He did, however, and he said, "Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in."

She turned and threw her arms around him. She kissed his face, near his lips, and then said in his ear, "I just realized, I really, really want children with you." And she did. She wanted to have children with him, even if she didn't really want to marry him. That thought consoled her somehow.

"And I just realized that I am really, really glad that I wasn't the one born with a uterus," he said, hugging her tight. He let her go, took her hand and added, "If we get started tonight, maybe we can get pregnant before the wedding, too. I remember I once said I didn't want to 'pull a Mike and Lavender' but the more I think of it, the more it looks like a great thing to happen."

"No babies right now for me, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, taking his hand and leading him toward the exit.

"But we can still have sex, right?" he asked.

"What if I said no sex before the wedding?" she asked, as they stopped before the lifts.

"Well, now you're just being ridiculous. Of course, we're going to have tons of sex before the wedding. If you don't perform up to my standards, I might have to throw you back," he joked. Hermione looked at the open lift doors, to the crowd of people in the lift, who heard his entire little speech. She looked back at Draco, shocked.

He looked at the crowd of people, placed his hand on the door to keep it from shutting and he said, "Seriously, don't you all agree?"

Hermione smiled, stepped in the elevator, her back to the crowd, her face red from blushing, and her eyes forward. He stepped in beside her, let the door shut, and he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I think they all agree, Granger."

* * *

_Coming up:_

"_A quiet weekend alone, that's what I thought we needed. I thought we could talk and discuss our feelings. I thought it would be romantic," she said, suddenly sad. She needed him not to question her on this. She needed him to understand._

"_No plumbing is not romantic, Hermione. It's disgusting. Where will I shower? Where will I relieve my bladder? Oh my gosh, where will I wash my hair?" he asked._

_She turned to him, threw the tent stake down and said, "Fine, let's go to a hotel!"_


	34. 34 A Time for Everything

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 34: For Everything, There is a Season:**

Hermione was never a religious person, but she always thought that the Bible was a good read. Seriously, it has some interesting stuff in it. Hermione was a woman who loved reading, and taken as a whole, she felt that the Bible was a hell of a book. Take the Old Testament - floods, famines, plagues, war, patricide, fratricide, homicide, suicide, the list goes on. Sodom and Gomorrah comes to mind. It has some very, racy stuff.

Hermione always felt that the best stories were in The Old Testament. It told of a vengeful God. An angry God. A God of War and Suffering. A God who was seriously pissed off at the world.

Then, there's the New Testament, full of love, do unto others, and forgiveness. It's where God loves everyone, and forgives everyone, and everything can be made right with love.

It should be in a different book altogether.

Then there are the sections in between, Psalms and Proverbs. The book of Psalms has a series of poems written by King David, about the relationship and love between God and man. Proverbs taught everyone the difference between right and wrong. Moreover, the Song of Solomon, frankly, had some of the best love poems Hermione had ever read.

Nevertheless, never wanting to be called predictable, her favourite part of the Bible, also attributed to King Solomon, was always Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, verses one to eight. For those not familiar with the Bible, there was a song by a group called the Birds, or was it Buffalo Springfield, or Crosby, Stills & Nash - it doesn't matter, they are all really the same band, but there was a song that contained the same verse called, "Turn, Turn, Turn."

A beautifully written verse, it's appropriate for funerals and weddings, christenings and bar mitzvahs. It's a philosophy, founded with a simple meaning, and a simple theme. The central theme was that for everything, there was a time, a place, and a purpose.

_**To everything, there is a season,**_

_**A time for every purpose under heaven.**_

_**A time to be born and a time to die**_

_**A time to plant and a time to pluck up that, which is planted.**_

_**A time to kill and a time to heal,**_

_**A time to weep and a time to laugh,**_

_**A time to mourn and a time to dance,**_

_**A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,**_

_**A time to lose and a time to seek,**_

_**A time to rend and a time to sew,**_

_**A time to keep silent and a time to speak,**_

_**A time to love and a time to hate,**_

_**A time for war and a time for peace.**_

Hermione always found that verse so profound.

Two years ago, Hermione and her mother sat in her grandfather's bedroom, as he lay dying of lung cancer. Hermione's mother sat on the edge of the bed while Hermione sat in a chair next to it. Hermione's mother told Hermione that her grandfather wanted a Bible verse read at his funeral.

At first, Hermione was shocked, because her grandfather was never a religious man. Hermione never knew him to go to church, not even once. However, he was also a private man, so what he felt was between him and his God, so Hermione was fine with following her grandfather's wishes. Her mother told her to pick up the Bible by the bed, and that her grandfather had placed a piece of paper to mark the passage that he wanted read.

Somehow, Hermione knew in her heart that her grandfather wanted the "time for every season" verse to be read. She was sure of it. She always felt she was a kindred spirit with the man. She opened the book, near the middle, expecting to find the page marked to Ecclesiastes. Imagine her surprise to find a page marked toward the back of the book, a part in The New Testament. Hermione would have thought her granddad was more of an 'old testament' sort of bloke. She opened the book, and saw a passage marked about love. Love - a truth universal.

Hermione's granddad died later that day. Two days later, at his funeral, she read the following passage:

_**Corinthians I: Chapter 13 – Verses 1 – 13:**_

_**If I speak in tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.**_

_**If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.**_

_**If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.**_

_**Love is patient and kind. It is not envious. It does not boast. It is not proud.**_

_**It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.**_

_**Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.**_

_**It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.**_

_**Love never fails, but where there are prophecies, they will cease. Where there are tongues, they will be stilled, where there is knowledge, it will pass away.**_

_**For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.**_

_**When I was a child, I talked like a child. I thought like a child. I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish things behind me.**_

_**Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face-to-face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.**_

_**And now these three remain; faith, hope and love. But, the greatest of these is love.**_

Was there ever a more beautiful, or appropriate verse written about love? Hermione didn't think so, and neither did her grandfather. It matters not what someone believes, what higher power, what God, everyone believes in love. The evidence has always been all around us. There are thousands upon thousands of poems, songs, and sonnets written about it. People can die without it.

Love was all you need.

Love makes the world turn around.

Love was the answer.

Love, love, love.

Hermione knew one thing was true: she loved Draco Malfoy, and the rest would find a way. The worries would cease, the troubles would pass, and everything would find its place, as long as there was love. For her, the two verses went hand in hand. There was a time for everything and without love, she had nothing.

Now she had to tell Draco that.

She also had to find a way to tell him that she while she loved with all her heart, and never wanted to leave him, she didn't want to get married now, maybe never, and she was tired of trying to deny it.

The next month went by with a fake, happy, plastic Hermione taking the place of the real Hermione. She picked out her veil. She wrote her vows. They picked out the cake, the flowers and the music. It was the night of their engagement party at her parents', in late August, six weeks before the wedding, that she finally had her epiphany. She was in the upstairs hallway of her parents' house, listening to the guests as the arrived at the door. She heard her dad answer the door when Harry and Ginny, sans kids, arrived. She was staring at a portrait of her grandparents on their wedding day, and the verse that she read at her granddad's funeral came rushing back to her and she realized that she wanted what they had, without the marriage part.

She wanted someone to love and cherish her, and to whom she could love and cherish back.

She wanted someone to grow old with, and to care for her in sickness and in health. She wanted someone for richer and for poorer.

She wanted a friend who would be there in good times and in bad, but she didn't want to get married. She didn't know why, but she knew it was.

Call it cold feet. Call it irrational. Call it insanity, but she finally realized that all the doubts she claimed she had because of Draco were really just her own doubts.

All the talk of marrying Draco in the beginning was just a sham for other people. She just wanted to be in love. She knew the difference now that love was a real thing in her life. She had love. She liked love. She wanted love.

What she didn't want was marriage. She wanted her independence, and her own place in the world, and she wanted to share it with Draco, but not as his wife.

What was she going to do?

She went to her childhood bedroom, shut the door, and sat on the floor on the other side of the bed. She felt like crying, because she didn't want to hurt anyone, but she didn't want to hurt any longer either. Draco would leave her for sure. Everyone would condemn her and judge her. They would think something was wrong with her, because all women wanted to get married, didn't they?

Seriously, what was she going to do?

There came a knock on her door. She figured it was her mum, so she said, "Come in."

Draco opened the door slowly. At first, he didn't see her, but as he stepped in the room, he saw her curly hair above the mattress. Draco walked over to the other side of the bed, and sat down on the floor beside her.

He knew immediately that something was wrong. He took her hand. He looked at it for a long time. He turned it over in his, and then turned it back, palm side down. He massaged her fingers.

He said, "I love you." He hoped that would make everything right.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and she said, "I love you so much."

He kissed the top of her hand, and then placed her hand in his lap and placed both his arms around her shoulders. She leaned into his chest. He said, "We have guests downstairs."

"I know."

"Do you want to come down?"

"Let's go away for the weekend," she said, turning her face toward his, while avoiding his question.

"Okay, tomorrow we can go somewhere nice. A romantic weekend," he said.

"No," she said, almost too desperately for his taste. She moved from his arms to face him. She took his hand this time and said, "Let's go now."

"After the party?" he asked, already knowing that wasn't what she meant.

"Now," she said, conveying so much in that one word.

"Your parents planned this nice party, and all the people are already here. We can't leave," he said.

She made a sort of strangulated noise, halfway between a cry and an exasperated huff, and she said, "Please."

He stood up. He said, "Stay here a moment."

He left her on the floor of her childhood bedroom. Hermione would never know what he had said to everyone, whether he made up an excuse, or if he outright lied, but somehow, he told everyone that they had to leave their own engagement party. He came back upstairs and he said, "Done."

She smiled and ran to him and threw herself in his arms. He didn't want to tell her that with each passing second he grew more and more alarmed, so he tried to become lost in the moment. She was temporarily happy, so he would be as well.

She told him to meet her at their house in an hour. She had to go get something out of her parents' attic. He didn't question her. He merely apparated home.

An hour later she appeared. Since he had no clue as to what she had planned, he stayed in his suit and tie. He only changed when she came running in the flat, toward the living room, and said, "I have us all packed and ready to go. Come on."

Hermione told him to change into jeans and trainers. He did. She told him to bring a jacket. He did. At this point, if she asked him to follow her to the executioner's chair, he would.

When he was changed, and still confused, she took his hand and disapparated them both away.

They ended up in a little glade in the forest, near a little stream, with large rocks all around. There was a lovely hillside on the other side of the water, and tall, ancient trees surrounding the glade.

Draco had just noticed that there was a large knapsack and what appeared to be a folded tent on the ground near where they apparated. She said, "I brought the tent and supplies right before I collected you."

Draco was beyond confused. He walked around in a circle as she began to unfold the tent. He asked, "Where are we?"

"This is a little spot where my granddad used to come to fish. We camped here once. I thought it would be nice," she said, placing the different parts of the tent on the ground.

"Camping?" he asked.

Without looking up, she said, "Uh huh."

"Why are we camping?"

"A quiet weekend alone, that's what I thought we needed. I thought we could talk and discuss our feelings. I thought it would be romantic," she said, suddenly sad. She needed him not to question her on this. She needed him to understand.

"No plumbing is not romantic, Hermione. It's disgusting. Where will I shower? Where will I relieve my bladder? Oh my gosh, where will I wash my hair?" he asked.

She turned to him, threw the tent stake down and said, "Fine, let's go to a hotel!"

She started to pack everything back up. He took the rucksack from her hand and threw it across the clearing. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard.

"What's wrong with you?" he shouted.

The last thing she wanted to do was to cry, but it was the first thing she began to do, which alarmed him even more. He pushed her away from him, not waiting for her to answer. He walked over to the edge of the water and sat down.

She timidly walked over to him. She tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, and said, "If we're going to have a place to sleep when night falls, you better get the fucking tent up, but don't expect any help from me."

She stood behind him, waited a few moments, and then silently went about putting the tent up, not even using magic.

The sun was still in the sky, but the evening sky was a dusky pink. He was still looking out at the water when she finished her task. She came and kneeled down beside him.

Without looking at him she said, "Will you do something for me?"

He was so tired. He let out a low, long sigh, and asked, "What?"

"Will you go in the tent and change into the outfit I packed for you?"

That was the last thing he expected her to ask. He gave her a funny look, and that was when he noticed that she was in her wedding dress. He frowned. He was beyond confused. She stood back up, and said, "Please." It was the same way she had said, 'Please' to him earlier.

Whether it was desperation or curiosity that drove him to do her bidding, he wouldn't know, but he went into the tent, and he changed into the suit, which he had bought for their wedding day.

When he came out of the tent, the sun was starting to set, giving the whole clearing a peaceful, orange, hazy glow. She had charmed the trees to mimic the trees of autumn. The once green leaves appeared yellow, red and orange. She had a fall bouquet in her hands. He forgot his previous fear and smiled, because she looked so lovely.

"What's going on here, Hermione?" he asked. He looked around; expecting their friends to come out from behind the trees at any moment, to join them in what he could only assume was their new wedding day.

He was soon disappointed.

She said, "This is our commitment ceremony. Just you and I, and nature. I want to tell you what's in my heart, and I want to hear what's in yours. I want you to know that I love you and I will never leave you. I made you that promise once, and it's a promise I don't ever intend to ever break."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why do I love you, or why do I intend to never leave you?" she asked, suddenly crestfallen.

"Why are we doing this, like this?" he clarified.

"Because I think that this should be a private thing, just between you and me. Just like my grandfather's relationship with God was between just him and God," she said.

He stared at her for a moment and asked again, "WHAT?" She wasn't making any sense.

"Let me start over," she said with a sigh. She took his hand and said, "Draco, I love you so much, and I want to spend my whole life with you." She began to cry, so he clasped her hand with his other hand as well, to give her courage, because he could sense that her courage was waning.

She continued, "I want to commit myself to you, forever, if you will have me. I want to grow old with you, and share my life, and my hopes, and my dreams, and perhaps have children with you someday. There's a time for everything, a season for everything, and this is our time. I finally realized that."

"I also realized that love is unconditional, and it doesn't have strings, and it's not held together with pieces of ribbon and tape, or by a little piece of paper called a marriage certificate."

He finally understood, and he dropped her hand. She reached for him again, but he took a step back.

"Please, Draco," she said, tears freely falling, "You once said I had a blanket forgiveness, good for up to one year, no questions asked. I ask for that forgiveness now. Forgive me, but I don't want to get married. I do want to continue to love you. I want to be together, without the pressure of an engagement weighing us down. Please, try to understand. I'm sorry I dragged this out so long. I'm sorry I forced you to change your mind about marriage, only to change my own. I'm sorry for so many things, but the one thing I'm not sorry for is how much I love you! Please, love me forever, stay with me forever, just not as my husband."

He backed away from her and shook his head. He tore off his tie and took off his jacket. He started walking away from her, dragging his jacket in the dirt, his tie clenched tightly in his hand, with no intent or purpose. He just had to get away.

He heard her call his name, and he continued to walk away.

He knew he promised her that he would forgive her anything, but now he wasn't sure he could.

He walked along the two-lane road until he found a small restaurant, or more appropriately, a bar. He went inside and ordered ale. He went over to a table in the corner, and hung his head. He was so numb that he didn't even know how to process what had just happened.

Hermione loved him, but didn't want to marry him.

She had never really wanted to marry.

She had caused him so much pain and suffering, because at first, HE didn't want to get married, and now she didn't want to get married. He wasn't certain he could wrap his brain around that concept.

The trouble was that he _did_ want marriage now; at least he had finally convinced himself of that. He was convinced that he wanted marriage, and she didn't. They were definitely at what was known as a stalemate. He stood up and walked into the other room of the bar, where there were four billiard tables. He had only ever seen billiards played twice before, but one of the tables was empty, so he picked up a cue stick, and began to play.

Hermione used magic to put all the camping gear away. She used magic to turn the glade back to the same condition it was before he left. She used magic to put everything right. Too bad magic couldn't put her heart back together. Too bad she couldn't use magic to make Draco forgive her.

She never wanted to hurt him, but if the positions were reversed, which actually they were back in March at Lavender's wedding, when she really _did_ want to get married and he _didn't_, she would be as hurt as he was. In other words, she knew how he felt; she just didn't know how to rectify things.

She knew he walked toward the two-lane road, so on the off chance that he was still nearby, she followed. She knew he wouldn't have gone home. He probably just wanted to get away from her, the way she ran away from him that night back in March, at the Inn, when she ran from their room.

She came upon a bar, which seemed somewhat seedy. She opened the door, and everyone in the busy bar turned and looked at her. That was when she realized she was still in her wedding dress. She walked up to the bar and said, "Did a blonde haired man in a beige suit come in here?"

"Your groom, Miss?" the bartender asked.

"I don't know how to answer that," she said, truthfully. As she spoke, she didn't see Draco at the end of the bar, nursing a gin and tonic, watching her every move.

"Did he leave you at the altar?" a patron nearby asked.

"No. I guess you could say I left him," she said. "More likely, I never really got there. It's a long story, which I am sure you would find boring."

One of the waitresses leaned up against the bar and said, "Give us a try."

Draco ducked his head and moved to a table in the far corner, under a broken light, so not to be seen. He was still without his jacket and tie, so he hoped no one would think he was the man for whom she was searching, because he wanted to hear her explanation as much as they did.

"Come on, sweets, we're good listeners in here," the bartender said.

Hermione sat at the bar, and said, "It started New Year's Eve, when I was sitting in my office, debating on whether or not to go to a New Year's Eve party, and I had a terrible thought. If a tree fell on my head, right there in the middle of my office, and I was all alone, and no one was around to hear me scream, did that mean I would be alone for the rest of my life?"

She garnered some strange stares. She said, "That's a bad analogy, I know, but its how the story begins. See, there was this man, named Draco Malfoy, and I told everyone that I was going to marry him someday, but I never told him…"

She talked for hours. She told them every detail of the last eight months. She opened every wound, and pulled no punches. She was brutally honest, taking the blame when she should, and blaming him when she thought she ought to. She even had some beer as she told her story, which seemed to lower her inhibitions even more. She felt it was right to share this story. It seemed appropriate to tell her story for some reason, even if it was long and meandering in some parts, and didn't make sense in others. People seemed to be interested, and she seemed to want to share.

She told them she couldn't explain why she didn't want to get married, but that she just knew that for him and her, it was wrong. She said she knew in her heart that Draco felt the same, even though he couldn't admit it.

When she finished her story, after having three beers, one of the patrons finally said, "I think that bloke was here earlier. I saw him playing billiards in the other room. He might still be in there."

Hermione stood up, with at least twelve people behind her. She went to the archway leading to the other room, which was now crowded with people. She saw a blonde man leaning over a billiards table, with a beautiful blonde woman in front of him, and he was showing her how to hold a billiard's cue stick.

Hermione felt a singe of jealousy, and in her somewhat depressed state, and through the tears she cried, and after having two too many beers (or maybe three too many), she stomped her foot and said, "You fucking coward! Stop playing billiards with that woman immediately and look at me! You have to forgive me! I am so sorry! I love you and I will do anything to make it up to you. I will even marry you if that is what you truly want, even though that's not what I want, because, dammit Draco, love is not selfish! It's not envious, boastful, or proud! It's for the other person! I will do whatever you want, just leave that woman alone and come over here and tell me that I'm forgiven! You owe me one forgiveness! You promised, you bastard!"

The man playing billiards looked up. Hermione was embarrassment personified. She felt a tap on her shoulder, turned around, and heard, "I don't know about the bloke playing billiards, but I know that I..."

* * *

_Coming up:_

_Yes, it's the ultimate cliffhanger, so I'm not going to tell you what's coming up. You will have to wait and worry, but know this dear reader, there are only two more chapters left, and so what do you think will happen in only two chapters?_


	35. 35 The Whole Truth

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 35: The Truth, the Whole Truth:**

The truth can set you free.

Hermione once heard a man say that truth was a heavy burden to bear; therefore, very few people ever carried it. No truer statement could be said about the truth. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that truth was beautiful without doubt. Hermione had been carrying doubts and lies around her neck for so long that they had become a heavy burden for her to bear, and the doubts and the lies were intertwined, and she struggled everyday just to open her eyes, breathe in and out, and muddle through. She had forgotten what the truth was. She no longer recognized it. That was why she had to finally take a step back, distinguish the lies from the truth, and when she finally did she was finally free.

In the movie "A Few Good Men," Jack Nicholson says to Tom Cruise, "You can't handle the truth!" Well, Hermione would have bet even money that never in a million years would Draco Malfoy have been able to handle the truth. Yet, she told him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and he handled it with flying colours.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle also had a wonderful quote about truth. He once said that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Winston Churchill said it even better. He said, "Truth is incontrovertible, malice may attack it and ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is."

That was how it was for Hermione and Draco. She told him the truth, and the world didn't end, the sky didn't fall, he didn't tell her he hated her, and more importantly, he didn't leave her. Though the first two were unlikely to have happened, the last two were the things she feared the most. Her fears were unfounded.

Hermione had just told everyone in the bar the whole truth about her romance, or at least her spin on it, and though it was a new spin on an old story, no one judged her for it. They listened with sympathetic ears, gave her encouraging words, and made her see that she had the courage to tell Draco the truth. When someone in the bar mentioned that they saw Draco in the other room shooting billiards with some girl, Hermione hopped off her bar stool, and with the encouragement of her new 'bar' friends, she went to the doorway that led to the other room.

The lighting was bad, her eyesight was slightly blurred due to tears cried and three pints of ale, and smoke hung so heavy in the air that Hermione was sure that the second hand smoke would give her early emphysema. However, as she stood in the doorway and she saw a blonde man leaning over a woman, teaching her to shoot a billiard cue, something snapped.

She stomped her foot and said, "You fucking coward! Stop playing billiards with that woman immediately and look at me! You have to forgive me! I am so sorry! I love you and I will do anything to make it up to you. I will even marry you if that is what you truly want, even though that's not what I want, because, damn it Draco, love is not selfish! It's not envious, boastful, or proud! It's for the other person! I will do whatever you want, just leave that woman alone and come over here and tell me that I'm forgiven! You owe me one forgiveness! You promised, you bastard!"

The man playing billiards looked up. Hermione was embarrassment personified. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. Draco said, "I don't know about the bloke playing billiards, but I know that I forgive you, Hermione."

She stared at him. She glanced back at the man with the woman at the billiard table, said, "Sorry, carry on, Sir. And Miss, you seem like a very nice lady." She took several deep breaths, turned back to Draco and asked, "Are you telling me the truth?"

"At last, yes, I am," he admitted. "I was over in the corner of the bar the whole time and I heard everything you said to the crowd. I applaud your courage for finally telling the truth. You did what I would never be able to do, and I love you for it. You did what I could never do, even though it's the exact thing that I have wanted to do the whole time, and even though I was afraid to admit the truth to even myself."

She leaned forward, unaware of all the inquiring eyes upon them, and placed her hands on his chest. She said, "You really forgive me?"

"I promised you one forgiveness, didn't I?" he asked. "Do you think I would go back on my word? However, I have to warn you, the next time you screw up, forgiveness won't be so easy to come by. I have to ask for forgiveness, too."

"What have you done?" she asked.

"I ignored the truth which I knew for so long," he said, finally placing his arms around her. "I knew how you felt. I knew you had doubts and qualms, and I knew deep inside it was a reflection of my own feelings, but out of my desperation not to lose you, I chose to ignore it."

She smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like a truthful gesture.

"Kiss her!" one man yelled.

"Goodness man, give me a moment," Draco said toward the crowd. He placed his hand on her cheek and said, "Just answer me this. What do you feel when I place my hand on your cheek?"

A woman leaned toward another patron and said, "He's trying the old cheek touching test again, like he did before." They had all heard about this from Hermione's story.

Hermione smiled and said, "I still feel the butterflies. A multitude of butterflies, and I know I will always feel that when you touch me. When you're close to me like this, my heart almost skips a beat."

Draco said, "That is all I needed to know. As long as you always feel the butterflies in your belly when I touch your cheek, I don't need a silly piece of paper to say that we're married. Although, I think that might mean you have to give the ring back." He raised one eyebrow, and gave her his sweetest smirk.

She looked at the ring on her hand as her hand rested on his chest and said, "But it's so pretty."

"I think those are the rules," some woman said from the crowd.

Hermione looked at him closely to see if he was serious or not. She really wasn't sure, so she started to take the ring off her finger, when he stopped her by covering her hand with his.

He leaned forward and whispered, "Look, I captured your hands. Isn't that the thing you like? Keep the ring. I never want to give it to anyone else but you, and it doesn't have to have an occasion associated with it." He looked toward the crowd in the billiard room, then turned his head to the left and looked at the crowd in the bar. He looked back to her and said, "I think we have kept them waiting long enough, don't you? They're patiently waiting for a kiss."

She smiled and said, "Best to commence and give the people what they want."

He dipped his head and placed his lips over hers. He kissed her as if it was the first time. It was fresh and brand new, but familiar and welcoming. It was real, true, and right. He placed his left hand around to her back to press her closer, and he opened her mouth gently under his. This was their commitment. These people were their witnesses. It didn't matter if they had a marriage certificate, because this kiss would bind them together forever, as if it was a holy vow.

He lifted his head and said, "Let's go."

They started toward the door, with Hermione turning back once and saying, "Goodbye everyone! Thanks!"

They started down the dirt road and he asked, "Did you pack up our things."

"Yes, they're still at the encampment, though," she answered.

"Can we go back? To the glade? I want us to have our commitment ceremony," he pleaded. He took his wrinkled tie from his pocket and started to thread it through his collar.

"Are you sure," she asked.

"Yes, though it's late. You're better at charms than I am, so perhaps you could charm the place like you did before, with all the vibrant fall colours, and since it's dark now, make it light and all," he said.

"We don't have to do this," she said.

"I want to, and this time, I mean it," he said. He laced her fingers in his and they walked along. "Let's walk. It's such a nice evening."

He took his jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. They started down the lane when she stopped.

"I need to say something else, first." She hesitated, not knowing where to start. She turned to face him and said, "I've been a terrible person lately. Well, not just lately, for a long time. It was never my intention to lie or hurt people. It's crap, the whole bloody thing, and for so long I didn't know what I could do to rectify everything."

"Hermione," he started only to be silenced by her. She placed her fingertips lightly on his mouth.

"For so long, Draco," she said, "I knew that I probably never wanted to get married, but everyone was doing it. Remember what you said back last winter, about how I probably just wanted to get married because everyone else was and how that wasn't a valid reason? Well, you were right."

"I wanted love and companionship, but that doesn't mean I truly wanted marriage, but likewise, I didn't want to be out in the cold. I don't know if I will ever be ready for marriage." She took his hand again, and placed both their hands on his chest. She craned her head to look up at him.

"It was wrong of me to force you into marriage, and make you feel guilty about not wanting marriage, when down deep those were my feelings as well," she said in hushed tones. "I'm more like you than you realize, because I'm not sure I can articulate why I don't want marriage, either. I just don't. I'm sorry I can't explain it better. I'm sorry if everyone is disappointed in me. I have to be true to myself, though. It's high time."

He pressed his forehead to hers, his downcast eyes staring in her eyes and he said, "I could make every excuse in the book, but I swear, I don't want marriage either, and I couldn't begin to explain it to everyone's satisfaction. Hermione, look, the way I see things, we both feel the same, for real this time. We've admitted as much, and that's all that matters. We don't have to explain anything to anyone. We only have to answer to ourselves. We only have to be true to ourselves. The rest will fall away, or not, but it doesn't matter in the end."

He picked her up and started to carry her. She smiled and asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm making sure you don't ever leave me again," he said.

"When did I leave you?" she asked.

"When you lied about wanting marriage. That wasn't you, not the real you. Now that I finally have the real you, I'm not letting you go. Never."

They finally reached the small clearing near the water's edge. He set her down on her feet, she handed him his jacket, she took out her wand to caste a charm over the trees, and once again, they took on the hues of autumn: gold, orange, red, burgundy, and yellow. She transfigured vines that were crawling up a nearby tree into thousands of fairy lights, casting a soft, luminescent glow over the small area.

She took a deep breath, to clear her mind and steady her nerves, and she turned to him. He took her hand.

He said, "With your permission, I would like to start." She wanted him to, because even though she finally had clarity, she couldn't see clearly the things she wanted to say to him. At least, not yet.

He said, "We were fools to believe that things would turn out right, when we couldn't even be honest with each other. And the one thing I wanted the most, never to cause you pain again, was the only thing that came from our deceit, and that one thought has kept me awake so many sleepless, dark, uninviting nights."

"You were always the one thing to keep me going, Hermione. Without you, I couldn't carry on and function. I couldn't get out of bed each day. I would be lost and confused, and consumed with an unending thirst."

"I don't want you to ever worry your pretty little head again that I will leave you. I won't. We are together, forever. I love you so much that it scares me. Things I used to find boring and mundane, now seem new and exciting, because I get to share them with you."

She reached up for his lips, outlined them slowly with her finger, and then kissed them. She placed her arms around his waist, and with her cheek on his chest, she listened for the beat of his heart, to either confirm or deny his claims. She only found truth.

He continued, as she once again looked up in his face. "You give me courage. You've given my life a beginning, middle, and an end. You've offered me an invitation to join you in life, and it's an offer that is too good to refuse. You're more beautiful than is allowed, I'm sure." At this, she laughed and he said, "Sorry, my thoughts are becoming discombobulated in my head. They sound perfect in my brain, but they're coming out disjointed and confused in real life, so just stick with me. I'm almost done."

She nodded.

"You leave nothing to the imagination. You lay it all before me, I see it clearly, and most importantly, you give me the audacity just to stand here and proclaim my love for you. This is something real, and this is something tangible, this will last forever."

"Because I will love you forever. I will love you for your unbridled beauty, your unending, giving heart, your courage, and finally, for your truthfulness. I will work hard every day of my life to emulate all of those traits, so that I'm worthy enough for you, because after all, if you think I am good enough for you, who am I to dispute those claims?"

She kissed his lips and said, "I like that. Those were good vows. I've always wanted someone to tell me I had unbridled beauty."

He puckered his face for a moment and said, "Are you having a laugh at my expense, Hermione Granger? Do not tell me I laid my soul and heart bear to you, placed them on an altar at your feet, only to have you have a laugh at me. What's next? Are you going to stomp all over them, too?"

"It was only a small laugh, I swear," she said. "Remember, this is truthful Hermione now."

"Let's hear your vows, if you're so great," he said, smirking, his hands now on her shoulders.

She cleared her throat, took his hands from her arms, and held them tightly in her own. Hermione said, "I feel as if I've lived a whole lifetime in this one night. We have wasted so much time with lies and deceit, and now that I see my own mind clearly, and I know you feel the same, I'm almost confused as to how to carry on and continue."

"We've lived so long in the splendor of what was love, without really basking in the true glory of it. Our love was quiet inside us, and we forgot about it, somehow, in the midst of trying to do what we thought we should do, instead of doing what we ought to do."

She stepped back, but kept his hands. She said, "You make me so happy, every time you're near and smile at me. You lift me up when I'm sad, alone, scared, or crying. You fill me with love that I hope will never end. After all, even married people have fears that it will end. Marriage won't make love last. That has to come from within here," she placed one hand on his heart, "and here," then she placed the same hand on her own.

"Everything you do is for me and me alone, and I never knew how wonderful that could be. That's what I wanted all along. That's what I envied about married people. You know what's in my heart before I ask things. I never need a reason to be with you. I want to feel your gentleness and love next to me all of my days."

"Every time you touch me tenderly, it moves me in ways unimaginable in the past. A word, a caress, a touch to the cheek, these actions prove to me that you will always be with me. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that. I love you."

He was filled with a strange emotion. It had to be more than just love, because he had felt love for her almost since New Year's Eve, so many months before. He almost felt slightly nauseated, and he smiled. "I think I feel slightly sick from all the sugary words we've just passed back and forth."

He smiled to show he was slightly joking, and she shook her head and said, "Draco Malfoy, what a nice thing to say."

"Listen, Hermione," he began, "let's just get to the, 'Until death do we part,' part, and then we can have our pseudo honeymoon in the silly little tent, agreed?"

"You have to put the tent up this time," she said.

"Talk about romantic words," he uttered. He leaned down and kissed her. They kissed for a long time. They stayed wrapped in each other's embrace, kissing and holding each other. He finally backed away.

"Where is the bloody tent?" he asked. He turned to the bundle on the ground. He started to unfold it and she stood back and watched. She would let him take care of this. She wanted him to take care of her for the rest of her life.

When the tent was up, he took her hand and they went inside. The whole place was washed in soft light. There were pillows all around. She gave him a crooked smile and said, "Your transfiguration is up to snuff, I see."

"I try," he gloated.

He took her hand and led her to the middle of the tent.

Before she could say another word, and ruin anything, he decided it was time to kiss her. He dipped his head again, as he had so many times before, and he kissed her with a sweet, endearing passion, which needed no spoke words, because it was all action.

She brought her hands up to his hair as his tongue mingled with hers. She felt this kiss all the way to her toes. Now that she was truthful to him, passion took on a new meaning. No longer afraid, or devoid of truthfulness, she now felt his love and passion beyond her mere body, but deep in her soul and it was glorious, to say the least.

Somehow, they undressed. Somehow, they ended up on the mass of pillows. Somehow, he closed his eyes as she let her hands skim his entire body, taking in every inch, and his muscles tightened and his jaw clenched and his resolve melted.

She was his wife in so many ways, and as long as he knew it, that was all that mattered.

He pulled her over to him and savored every part of her body, which he now felt, in some odd way, truly belonged to him as well as her. He wondered if she would mind. He smiled and looked up from her breasts and she said, "What?"

"You're mine," he said with a grin.

"Really?"

"Most certainly," he answered. He placed his cheek back to her breasts, but stopped kissing her long enough to listen to her heartbeat. He lifted his head and she cupped his cheek. "It's the truth, you're mine, and there's nothing you can do about it now. You proclaimed it to me, and I have a long memory."

"Does that mean you belong to me, too?" she asked.

"You will be the judge of that," he said with a small laugh. "You might find that you don't want me."

"I'll always want you," she declared. Hermione reached down between their bodies and grasped his erection in the most intimate way. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes and she said, "I think you belong to me."

He said something unintelligible and then pushed her back to her back, and ran his cheek against her chest, before bringing his face back to her mouth to kiss her again. This kiss was different, this kiss was all fire and molten lava and it set them both on fire. This kiss was their undoing. Though the pressure was no different from any other kiss, the intent was different.

Truthfulness equaled passion, and a tide of desire roared through the small tent, making them both tremble until they found their release. They were perfect for each other in everyway, if only in their constant imperfections.

The fact that she finally admitted to her second thoughts, and allowed him to admit to his, seemed to settle things between them, and with all doubt and lies evaporated, nothing was left but love and passion.

Tongues touching tongues. Mouths flowing over exposed skin. Scents mingling with each other, hers flowery and wanton at the same time, invading each of his five senses. His masculine and ardor embodied, searing itself into her brain.

Hermione was having trouble breathing, and each torturous touch affected her well-being. Soft skin, hard muscles, bones melting, mouths crushing…soon they both dissolved into a puddle in the middle of the tent, lost in the afterglow…and the desire was all that remained.

She finally sighed, her head on his chest. "That was nice."

"Bah," he said. "Nice? It was bloody fab, and you know it, Hermione Granger."

"Well, it's apparent that you've been practicing," she said.

"True, I have been, a bit," he said. He propped himself up on his elbow and shifted so that his arm and one leg was over her body. Something shifted suddenly in their relationship, something more than the truth, and their earlier passion. It was contentment. He was no longer afraid. He no longer had doubts.

He said, "We wasted time for so long. We should have been truthful in the beginning."

"Let's start over," she said. "Let's imagine it's New Year's Eve, and you see me at Lavender and Mike's party. Go."

"Go?" he asked, amused.

"What would you say to me that's different this time?" she asked.

"Would you still have made the marriage comment from before?" he asked.

"No, let's say instead of telling everyone I was going to marry you someday; let's say that I told everyone that I was going to rape you on the floor of a tent someday."

"Rape? That was consensual, my darling," he said. "Fine, let's pretend you told everyone you thought I was the most dashing, handsome man in the world, and you wanted to make me yours."

"Make you mine?" Now she propped up on her elbow. "That doesn't sound like something I would say."

He grimaced and said, "Oh and telling everyone that I was going to be your future husband someday, before we even dated, was so in character for you? That was the most un-Hermione Granger thing I have ever heard."

"Shut up," she said, slapping his arm.

"So, for the sake of our reenactment, you told everyone you thought I was ultra suave, and you wanted to shag me, okay?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, laughing. She said, "What would you have said to me at the New Year's Eve party? What would have been different?"

He really thought for a moment and then said, "You know, I don't really think I would change a thing. I think all roads led us to where we are now, so I really wouldn't change a thing."

"The hot wax incident?" she asked.

"I rather liked that," he said. "It gave me an early peek at your nice little body."

"When I flooded your bathroom?" she asked.

"Needed to be done, in my opinion," he said. "It gave you an early little peek at my nice big body."

She grinned. "Meeting the parents?" she asked.

He got a solemn look on his face and fell back on the pillows. "Damn, Hermione, what are we going to tell our parents?" he asked her back. He placed his arm over his eyes.

She frowned. She hadn't thought that far ahead. She hadn't planned any of this. It was all spur of the moment, just as everything had been since they first started seeing each other. She pulled his shirt over her shoulders and sat up. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"Your parents will be pleased," she said. She turned to look at the side of the tent.

He sat beside her, pulling a pillow over his lap. He pulled her into his arms and said, "We've proven to ourselves how adapt we are at lying, so why not keep it up. We just go back there tonight, and tell everyone that the deeds done. We eloped. In a way, I feel like we did."

"I can't finally find the truth only to cover it back up with lies, Draco Malfoy. I won't do that to our families and friends. I'm sorry enough that I did it to you all those months. Think of something else."

"I'm out of ideas," he said.

"You only thought of one, and you're out of ideas?" she asked with mocked annoyance. Hermione placed her cheek on his shoulder. "We have to tell them the truth, no matter what. No more lies."

"Ever?" he joked. "I will have to retrain my brain." He stroked her hair and said, "It will be okay. They can handle the truth. We'll invite them all to our house in the morning, and tell them together. Get it all over with in one felled swipe."

"My parents won't understand. They're such traditionalist," she said. "They believe in the sanctity of marriage. They won't approve. They also won't believe that the commitment we just made to each other is as strong of a commitment if we had made it in a church in front of everyone." She wanted to cry.

He didn't know what to say to help her. He really didn't. Instead, he pulled her to him, and made love to her again, because after all, it was their life to live, and it was up to them to live it the way they saw fit.

When the morning came, too soon, and too bright, Draco woke up to find his arms empty. He sat up suddenly; slightly afraid that last night was a dream. He found his pants, slipped them on, and climbed out of the tent. He couldn't help the feeling of foreboding that loomed over him. If she weren't outside, he would find her and hex her arse good.

He found her outside, in her rumpled dress, sitting by the water's edge. He was afraid to approach her at first, knowing that she was probably sad and contemplative, worrying about what was facing them.

He walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. When she turned to look up at him, instead of seeing the sad, doubtful, pensive, worried Hermione he was used to seeing as of late, he saw a genuine, true smile grace her beautiful face. She stood up quickly, hugged him tightly and said, "Good morning, my love. It's the first day of the rest of our lives."

He smiled, because he liked that sentiment. This wasn't the end. It was the beginning. He held her as he watched the reflection of the sunrise on the rippling water. Yes, he liked that sentiment very much, almost as much as he liked her.

She didn't care what anyone else thought. She was proud of their journey and where they ended it, and she didn't need anyone's approval, and neither did he.

* * *

_Coming up:_

_An epilogue and that is all. Thanks._


	36. 36 The End

**all characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 36: The End, aka: The Epilogue:**

Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from our mistakes. A person is not a failure just because they make a mistake. They're only a failure if they refuse to learn from that mistake, and if they continue to make the same mistakes over and over again. It is not our failures that make us weak, nor is it our mistakes that make us weak. What makes a person weak is an inability to recognize our mistakes.

Hermione Granger had made many mistakes in her life. She had learned from these mistakes. And those mistakes, of which there were many, and which did not kill her, made her a stronger person.

If only everyone was so lucky to learn from their mistakes.

Once again, Hermione found herself alone in her office at the Daily Prophet, after hours, on New Year's Eve. She was late for the now annual party that Lavender and Mike were throwing. She didn't even want to go to the silly party, no more than she wanted to go last year, but she promised them that she would.

What she really wanted was to go home, put in a good movie, put on her most comfortable pajamas, and curl up on her couch with her fat cat Iggy, but then again, that's what she wanted to do every night, New Year's Eve no exception.

She looked down at her attire, black skirt, white blouse, black shoes. She wasn't really dressed for a New Year's Eve party, but she didn't have time to change.

She tidied up her desk, the whole time wondering something, which made no sense, but still, the thought kept popping up in her mind. What if she didn't go to the New Year's Eve party? What would happen? Would the world end? Would it change anything?

Then she had another thought, a more important thought. What if she hadn't gone to the New Year's Eve party last year? Her life would have been less complicated, but so very different. She had made so many mistakes in the last year, and number one was telling everyone that she was going to marry Draco Malfoy some day. What a joke that ended up being.

Was it really a year ago that she sat here in the same chair, and had that weird, errant thought, about a tree falling on her head, her screaming, her being alone, and no one hearing her scream? Gads – she was weird, wasn't she?

She sighed and looked at her watch. It was almost 10:00 pm. Would anyone even notice if she shied way from the party? She knew one thing: she had learned from her mistakes, and all her problems in the last year were because she went to that party last year, so this year, she wouldn't go.

Would he be at the party tonight? It felt like it had been so long since she had seen him.

She stood up and grabbed her coat and purse. She turned off the light to her office and sighed to herself. While she tried to decide what movie to watch, she heard a 'pop,' signaling the sound of someone apparating.

She turned back toward her dark office, and stepped back inside. She turned her light back on and noticed someone sitting at her desk, in her chair, with the chair turned toward the windows, the back toward her. She said, "Who's there?"

The person started swiveling the chair back and forth. She stepped two steps closer and watched as the person in the chair turned around slowly.

"Hello, Hermione," said the person as they turned to face her.

She gasped in surprise. It was the last person she expected to see in her office on New Year's Eve. "Draco Malfoy, to what do I owe this honour?" she asked.

"It's been a while, Granger. How the hell have you been?" he asked.

"Fine, Draco." She placed her purse back on the desk and sat down on a chair in front of the desk.

"Take your coat off and stay a while," he said.

"You're inviting me to stay in my own office? How gallant," she said, removing her coat.

"Are you heading home?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I was," she said.

"You're not going to the party?" he asked.

"I don't think so. It's late, and the party is probably pretty much underway, and I doubt anyone will miss me," she said, rambling.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he said softly. When she said, "Pardon," he said louder, "I doubt it, too." He turned her chair back toward the windows, and looked out toward the dark, night sky. Then he said, "Well, maybe one or two people might miss you."

Hermione stood up and walked over to the chair. She stood beside the armrest and said, "Why are you here?"

"Who knows," he answered cryptically. He reached out; eyes still averted, and touched her skirt. He bunched the material in his hand.

"Draco," she pleaded.

"Hermione," he mocked.

She sighed once again, an almost mandatory sigh, and she sat on the edge of the desk. Skirt still in hand, he turned the chair slightly, so he could still stare out the window, but he could see her with his peripheral vision.

"Why aren't you at the party?" she finally asked.

"I was there," he said. "It wasn't very fun without, well, anyway, I was there." He looked over at her. "Joe said he was waiting for you to dance."

She smiled. "Good old, Joe."

"Lavender and Mike are boring everyone with stories about Azure. You would think she was the smartest, prettiest, best baby in the land," he herald.

"Well, to them she is," she reasoned.

She sat back some, so that her legs dangled from the desk, forcing him to let go of her skirt. She began to swing her legs back and forth. She accidentally kicked his leg. "Sorry," she said.

He reached over and grabbed the offending foot. He took it in his hand and rubbed his hand up and down her calf.

"Draco, let go," she pleaded.

"I've missed you," he said.

"Please," she begged. She didn't want to fight. She just wanted to go home.

"Have you missed me?" he asked.

"Please," she repeated.

In a quick, single act, he pushed away from the desk, let go of her leg, and stood quickly. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to stand in front of him.

"Have you missed me?" he asked, with more of an edge this time.

"Yes," she said.

"Good," he said back.

She felt lightheaded. She felt tears come to her eyes, and she hardly knew why, and she didn't know what to do, so she leaned forward, and his arms went instinctively around her body. She leaned her forehead against his chest. He rubbed one hand in circles on her back. His mouth was in her hair, and he kissed her head gently.

"Why?" he asked. He didn't elaborate. He just asked, 'why?' Did he mean, why have you missed me? Did he mean, why are you crying? Did he mean so much more?

In a soft, stiff voice, she said, "I want to go home. Let me go home, please."

"I don't understand you, sometimes," he said. He placed one hand under her chin. "Nothing is right about this, Hermione. Come to the New Year's Eve party. Let us start this year off differently. Let's start it off right."

"I don't want to go," she said.

"Does it matter what I want?" he asked.

"Of course it does," she said. He wasn't convinced. Everyone always thought Draco was the selfish one, but Hermione Granger was twice as selfish as he was. She placed her cheek against his shirt, and one hand crawled up to his collar, to the tiny hairs behind his scalp. She looked up at him again and then she leaned forward, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth. "I'm tired." This time, she meant so much more with those two little words.

"I know," he said.

"I love you," she said.

"I know. The question is do you know that I love you?"

"Yes. I know. I want to go home, please," she beseeched again.

He smiled at her and then brought a hand to each side of her face. He stared in her eyes and then leaned forward and kissed her eyes, first one, then the other, and then he kissed her lips.

"May I come home with you?" he finally asked, hesitantly.

She leaned toward him again, her arms tight around his waist. He rested his chin on the top of her head. She said, "You don't want to go back to the party?"

"It's not fun without you," he admitted.

"Sure, you can come home with me. I mean, why not? It's your house, too," she finally agreed.

He smiled; a smile she couldn't see, and then he reached one hand around to the back of her neck, under her hair, and began to massage her neck slowly. He asked, "Why are you feeling so tired?"

"I think I'm a bit melancholy knowing this is my last day of work," she said. "But, I think it's so much more, too."

"You mean your last day of work at the Prophet," he elaborated.

"Yes."

"Because, we still have tons of work to do on our book about marriage and dating, don't we?" he said. Though he made it seem as if it was a question, it was a statement of fact. His hand stopped massaging her neck and his fingers crept around to bring her chin up, to force her to stare at him again.

"Well, yes, although I still feel like we're cheating by using our earlier articles," she said.

"Who cares what you think?" He laughed, and then said, "By the way, did you realize that in three days it would have been our third month anniversary? If we had gotten married on October 4, that is. It's almost January 1. What would we have done for our third month anniversary, so you suppose?"

"Nothing." She looked up at her him and said, "You know me. I would have just wanted to spend a quiet weekend alone with you."

"We could still do that," he said, finally letting her go. He sat back down in her chair, but when he noticed that she was going to sit back on the desk, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap.

"But it's not our third month anniversary," she said, hiding her face in his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her and said, "We could pretend. Oh, Hermione, we have been such idiots."

"Thanks," she said, with a smile that he couldn't see.

"You have to agree," he said.

"I don't, but yet, I do," she said.

"Let's go back to the house, and pretend that this last year was different." He began to stroke her arm with one hand, his other planted firmly on her hip. "Let's pretend that none of the nonsense existed. Let's pretend that we had a proper courtship, and proper engagement, a proper wedding. Let's pretend this whole weird spin on things never occurred. Let's pretend that we weren't stupid, or foolish, or confused."

"Pretend, huh?" she asked. She would like to pretend.

"Things would have been different, you know," he said. "If only you would have let me lie to everyone when we came back from our commitment ceremony, and tell everyone that we ran off and got married. You and your damn truthfulness."

"It cost us a lot, didn't it?" she agreed. She buried her face deeper in the crook of his neck, and hung unto his shoulders tight. "I'm sorry."

"See, you don't know everything. Maybe we did need that little piece of paper to keep us together." He didn't say it to be mean. It was what he felt.

"I know."

"Well, at least we have it now. Better late then never," he said.

She kissed his neck and said, "Right, so instead of our almost three month anniversary, it's our one week. Instead of getting married on October 4, we got married on Christmas Eve. We didn't waste too much time, did we?"

"I suppose not." He began to rock the chair back and forth and said, "But as I mentioned earlier, I've missed you. I can't stand that I haven't seen you since this morning. I'm so glad that now that this job is out of the way, I will see you all day long, every day."

"We will probably get sick of each other," she stated.

"Probably," he agreed. She sat back, smiled at him, and then placed her cheek next to his.

She whispered in his ear, "Thanks for the surprise wedding ceremony last week. It was the best Christmas present I've ever received."

He twirled the chair around and she laughed. He said, "Well, we can't let everyone else have all the fun of being married, and since my parents finally came around and helped me plan the whole thing, we just had to get married. I knew if I told you in advance, you would be all doubtful, fearful, and in general, Hermione-ish, so it was up to me to save the day."

"Well, again, admirable job, Draco Malfoy," she said, smiling.

He smiled back and said, "Thank you, Hermione Malfoy." He then said, "It's not like the last few months of unmarried life was in vain though. It was still fun, living together in sin and all." He stood up, with her in his arms. He walked over to the edge of her desk and said, "My arms are full, so be a dear and lean over for your purse and coat so I can get us out of here."

"I still don't want to go to the party," she said.

"Fine, home it is. What movie are we going to watch?" he asked as she reached for her things.

"I thought maybe 'Sixteen candles', okay?" she said.

"That old thing?" he asked.

"Please?" she said.

"Fine, you always get your way," he complained.

"Not always. I didn't want to get married, remember. Yet, here I am, with your wedding ring on my finger, and you last name attached to mine," she said with a sly smile.

He had no response, so he gave her a half smile, kissed her cheek, and took his wife home.

His wife. He liked the way that sounded. And secretly, so did she.

~ THE END~


End file.
